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暴风吹雪纷飞在我眼中文字常常具有了三维形态,通常伫立在雪地上。有时我亲笔编结和钩织成的地毯就铺展在积雪的树下。用二十六个字母表达不可言传的情思。我不是在纸上而是在风景中写我的手稿——一只在暴风雪来临之前飞走的云雀留下的足迹,一场无与伦比的白色蝇舞,亚历山大·勃洛克所构思的蝇舞。我朝奇异的树丛走去,撞下了一个逗号或者是地图上的白点。最佳情形就是我和我的同伴踏雪前进,我听见雪格格响,听见他的手工制作的靴子在呻吟,我们知道我们永远也无法抵达目的地。我环顾四野,不
Storm blowing snow in my eyes often has a three-dimensional text, usually standing in the snow. Sometimes my hand-woven and crocheted carpet spreads under a snow-covered tree. Twenty-six letters to convey unspeakable feelings. Instead of writing on paper but in the landscape, I wrote my manuscript - the foot of a lark that flew away before a snowstorm, an uncanny white fly dance, a fly dance conceived by Alexander Blok. I walked towards the bizarre grove, crashed into a comma or the white dot on the map. The best is when I walked snow with my companion, I heard the snow rattles, I heard his handmade boots moaning, and we knew we could never reach our destination. I look around, no