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那是些翡冷翠阴郁的古老小巷,在老城里,近着老城中央的那个大教堂。是那种蓝天象一缕布一样盖在石头老房子上方的小巷,再烈的地中海的阳光都不能照到街巷里的石头上。是那种要是有人走过,整条巷子里都响彻了他的脚步声的窄窄长长的巷子,陌生人的脚步声,象房子上用的石头那么硬,在两边的墙上,弹过来,弹过去,又小,又硬,又清脆。清晨的时候,小巷子里飘着卡布奇诺的芳香。
That is the ancient dark alley of Florence, in the old town, near the cathedral in the middle of the old town. Is the kind of blue sky like a cloth covered in the old alley above the stone house, and then the fierce Mediterranean sunshine can not shine on the streets of stone. It was the narrow, long alley where somebody walked and his footsteps rang throughout the alley, the footsteps of strangers, as hard as the stone on the house, on the walls on either side Come over, play in the past, small, hard, crisp. Early morning, the aroma of cappuccino floating in the alley.