Chapter 18 hell

--------------- hell --------------- Venice, Spring 1996 hell Whether it is a short-distance turn around or a long-distance journey, if I am only allowed to have a book with me, I think it must be the Italian writer Italo Calvino. I am allowed to carry both the English and Chinese translations with me for the rest of my life. I don't know if I can read the original Italian, maybe I will regret it all my life. About Marco Polo, about Kublai Khan, about the countless adventures and countless expeditions they imagined in reality, Calvino pointed out at the beginning of the book that we have no attempt to understand the world, and we barely support the conquest of knowledge. We live in a seemingly miraculous empire "and ourselves" that are endless shapeless ruins, where the gangrene of corruption has spread too far... so bad that it can't get any worse, we have to live in Traveling in memory—in fact, think clearly and thoroughly. During the trip, you will inevitably look at the flowers, and you don’t even know the names of the flowers. The real travel is to repeat the aftertaste again and again in the future. To go, I only chose the beautiful scenery on earth, and sent an exquisite and expensive postcard to my memory.

During my three visits to Venice, I know that I will never tire of seeing the buildings and waterways here.Walking into those strange alleys, breaking into the backyard of no one, the marble statue with a beast head and a human body has a calm face, and it has been around for a long time and doesn’t care about who is in front of it——If there is a hell, Calvino said, it has already It exists here, that is the hell we live in every day, it is the hell that we gather together to form, accept the hell, continue to survive in this space, and maybe find happiness.