“小白现在陪着我,”尤鱼说,“还有跟你打电话,我没有那么害怕了。”话音刚落,又一声雷声响起,尤鱼的心也跟着颤动了一下...... “我睡不着。”尤鱼已经带上了哭腔,“陆然你可以给我念一个睡前故事吗?” “想听什么?” “都可以。”只要能听到你的声音就好了。 拿起床头还没看完的博尔赫斯全集,翻到刚刚看到的那一页,缓缓念了起来: “What can I hold you with?Jorges Luis Borges I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs. I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in marble: my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow;my mother’s grandfather -just twentyfour- heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.I offer you whatever insight my books may hold. whatever manliness or humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.
I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved somehow -the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.
I offer you explanationsof yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.” 陆然的口音很纯正,是标准的伦敦腔,发音很好听,沙哑低沉的声音让人感觉有些许性感,但念的每一句话里都没有感情,尤鱼却听得不亦说乎。