Heroine
太阳下山了，我错杂的心率写不出像样的句子。
时间回到十年前，阿黛尔的广受好评的21发售的那一天。窗外下着瓢泼大雨，我高声放着set fire to the rain，卧室里拿破仑画像上停着一只苍蝇。
就是这张画像，我们身高不足一米六的元帅在这里伟岸至极。它是我的座右铭。
那个下午，我被阿黛尔的歌声迷住了。我尚未明白它全部的意味。只是感到，她在暗夜里点亮了火光，虽然它与元帅像不同，与贝九或是布兰诗都不同，但毫无疑问如此迫近我的心弦。
但现在，但今天，但此刻，答案都近在眼前。让元帅回到热那亚吧！我不再踏着你的马蹄前行。那密林深处泥泞的小路直通大海。
当然，这一切对我来说都personal too personal，以至于无以言喻，以至于毫无关系。不过给这首打不足四星的各位，到底在想什么？难道这里不是更上一层楼么？
离开博尔赫斯的迷宫，走过黄昏密林的小路，这是乔治赫伯特的亚特兰蒂斯。
“Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin．
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I asked anything．
“A guest,” I answered, “worthy to be here．”
Love said, “you should be he．”
“I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on thee．”
Love took my hand, and smiling, did reply,
“Who made the eyes but I?”
“Truth, Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve．”
“And know you not,” says Love, “who bore the blame?”
“My dear, then I will serve．”
“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat．”
So I did sit and eat.”
