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某个闷热的星期天晚上9点钟,斯德哥尔摩一条寂静的后巷。薄雾逐渐聚拢,四周诡异的气氛就像一场正在进行着的沉闷比赛。一个高大的、沧桑的阿尔萨斯人拖着他的影子,跃进我们的视线。街对面,他——悠闲地坐在路边的长椅上,猛地拉开罐装啤酒的易拉环,正要把啤酒送到自己干涸的嘴边。突然,“砰”的关车门声破坏了这诡异的安静.他立刻向右扭头90°盯着嗓音发源地。破坏安静气氛的始作俩者虽然不解他的凌厉眼神,还是别扭地道了歉。很快,我的注意力集中到手里的啤酒,过了一会儿,摄影师达伦朝帕尼维克坐的地方点点下巴,给我使了个眼色“他在等着呢”。
On a sultry Sunday night at 9 o’clock, Stockholm, a silent back alley. Mist gradually gathered around the weird atmosphere is like an ongoing boring race. A tall, vicissitudes Alsatian dragged his shadow, leaping into our sight. Across the street, he - leisurely sitting on the bench by the roadside, suddenly opened cans of canned beer cans, is about to send his beer dried mouth. Suddenly, the “bang” off-door sound ruined this weird silence, and he immediately turned to the right 90 ° staring at where the voice came from. Destroying the quiet atmosphere of the two who although do not understand his sharp eyes, or awkward apologize. Soon my attention was focused on the beer in my hand. After a while, photographer Darren pointed my chin at the place where Panivik was sitting and gave me a look. “He is waiting.”