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布拉格.伏尔塔瓦河边的康帕公园有一堵高墙.墙上写着一道填空题:“Before l Die……”彩色的塑料桶里装着粉笔,供路人记录下瞬间的心情。他们在这块人生的黑板前徘徊、驻足,思索片刻.然后留下只言片语。在辞世之前.在肉体消失之前.在教堂的钟声响起之前.也许离死亡还远.也许已近在咫尺。但是.不管你写的是什么.不管有怎样的预设和假想,不管如何淡定和如何恐惧.不管你将去往哪里你写下的一切转眼就会被雨水和烈日冲刷殆尽,就像生命一样不留痕迹.就像再无机会修改.也再无机会重新书写一遍的人生。
Prague. There is a high wall in the Kampa Park on the Vltava river, with a blank space on the wall: “Before l Die ......” Chalked in colored plastic buckets, passers-by recorded their moments. They wandered in front of this board of life, stopped and thought for a moment, then left behind a few words. Before his death, before the body disappeared, before the church bell sounded, perhaps far from death, perhaps close at hand. But no matter what you write, no matter what the assumptions and assumptions, no matter how calm and how to fear no matter where you are going to write everything you will be washed away by the rain and the sun washed away, just as life The same as without leaving a trace, like no chance to modify, there is no longer a chance to rewrite the life again.