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穿行在底特律市区,如同踏进了错乱的时空隧道。一边是七十多层灯火通明的高楼大厦,一边是暗黑诡秘悄无人烟的大教堂;一边是人声鼎沸一掷千金的美高梅大赌场,一边是人去楼空衰败腐朽的李广场饭店;一边是带着浓浓南方口音快如说唱的黑人兄弟们在高谈阔论,一边是某个安静到极点的废弃地下室,连呼吸都带着回音。好像尘封已久的时空胶囊;好像主人离开只是上星期的事;好像按下按钮,某个舞厅还会被点亮,钢琴还会响起,穿着华服的绅士淑女还会出现,踮踮脚向你示意,拉着你滑进舞池。
Walking through the downtown Detroit is like stepping into a disorganized space-time tunnel. On one side is more than seventy layers of brightly lit skyscrapers, one side is dark and mysterious quiet unmanned cathedral; one side is the populous daughter of the MGM Grand Casino, while people go to the decadent decadent square Lee Hotel; The black niggaz, rapped with a deep southern accent, talked loudly, while on the other hand was a quieter, abandoned basement with breathy echoes. Seems like a dusty capsule of time and space; it seems like the owner left just last week; it seems as if a button is pressed, a ballroom lit, the piano sounded, and gentlemen and ladies in Chinese costumes appear, stomping on you Gently, dragged you into the dance floor.