我无时无刻不感受到这个城市的狂热与躁:动黄昏将临,众神咏叹,我们少了一点禅味,少了一点释然,少了一点淡雅,少了一点安静。我们生活得不够艺术,不够本质,我们仅仅是附庸,用昆德拉的话说:媚俗。生活,以生活之名,给自己焦虑与恐慌、绝望与厌倦,如果说能够有什么解脱,或许便要从 I feel the madness and impatience of this city all the time: Moving dusk approaching, the gods chant, we have a little less Zen flavor, a little less relieved, less elegant, less a little quiet. We live without enough art, not essential, we are only vassal, with Kundera’s words: kitsch. Life, in the name of life, give yourself anxiety and panic, despair and boredom, if we can say what relief, perhaps from