“给我描述一下这场风暴是什么样的吧,可以吗?”弟弟轻声对我说,就好像声音再大一点儿,颤动的回声就会打破我们眼前的景象。我们在一个山头坐下,这是这个平坦的中西部地区最高的山。我们打量着这场风暴带来的破坏,或者说他心里的美好景象。 “Tell me what the storm is like, can I?” My brother whispered to me, as if the sound was a little louder and the trembling echo would break the scene before us. We sat down on a hill, the tallest mountain in this flat Midwest. We looked at the damage caused by the storm, or the beautiful scene in his heart.