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过去总是存在,在我们耳边低语,塑造我们的脚步。
正义很简单,只是不公平。
一幅画像束缚住了我们。我们无法走出它,因为它存在于我们的语言中,语言似乎无情地一次次地重复给我们看。
I think that we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid, and that what takes place is a continual evasion, desperate rearguard attempts to keep ourselves to ourselves.