11.20

The furnace in the corner, with its huge tubular fingers reaching out and disappearing into the wall, was unaware of the futility of trying to warm the empty house. The rhythmical whir of its effort hummed the elegy for the memories boxed in front of me. I closed the door, sat down on the step, and listened reverently. The feeling of loss transformed the bad memories into not-so-bad, the not-so-bad memories into good, and committed the good ones to my mind. Still, I felt as vacant as the house inside. 墙角的暖炉伸出巨大的管状排烟管，隐入墙壁深处，却不知试图温暖这座空屋只是徒劳。它运转时富有节奏的嗡嗡声，为我面前箱中封存的回忆哼唱着挽歌。我关上门，坐在台阶上，虔诚地倾听。失落感竟奇妙地将糟糕的回忆变得尚可，将尚可的回忆化作美好，再将那些美好深深镌刻在脑海中。可即便如此，我的内心仍如屋内一般空荡。