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试图写爱就是面对语言的泥潭:那个语言既太多又太少,过度又贫瘠的歇斯底里区域。
夜晚是一块画布,而我们是颜料。
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.