这是一场很虚幻的爱的讨论,既不是虚构的,也不是非虚构的,我想讨论爱欲和飘逸的关系,我们区分不了身体上的恋爱和眼神里的恋爱。有一个巨大无比的房间,里面全是女性,冬天的皮毛成了她们语言穿梭的暖床,我觊觎良久,尽管我知道这样的游戏会被无名的狂躁破坏,甚至不用午后的阳光带着虚无的牌子赶到那里。这是我在冬天的下午虚构的,我在寻找一种并不安全的阐述。一般而言,爱的宣言反倒是一部特别无趣的伦理剧的前言部分,这种承诺尽可能地喋喋不休,它无需被数据证实,它其实就是成功的宣战,或是失败的宣战。爱里面,所有流得飞快的物体就是嗳昧,它就像语言里的虚词,弥散着试探与拒绝、再试探与接受之间的不规则走向。 This is a very fantastic discussion of love. It is neither fictional nor non-fictional. I would like to discuss the relationship between love and grace. We can not distinguish between physical love and love in the eyes. There was a huge room full of women, the winter fur into a warm bed of their language shuttle, I am a long time, although I know that such a game will be destroyed by the nameless mania, not even the afternoon sun with nothingness The sign rushed there. This is my fictional afternoon in the winter, I was looking for an unsafe exposition. In general, the declaration of love, instead, is a foretold part of a particularly boring ethics drama that chats as much as possible without being substantiated by the data: it is actually a successful declaration of war or a failed declaration of war. In love, all the fast-moving objects are ignorant, and it is like a function word in language that disperses the irregular trend between temptation and denial and then temptation and acceptance.