未来的春季

伦敦市区不多高耸的建筑，在Piccadilly书店五楼的小咖啡，便已经有一点俯瞰这个城市的感觉。

坐在书店里看了一下午海明威，有一段喜欢到落泪，摘抄如下，共勉：

Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the springs, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.

In those days, though, the spring always came finally; but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.

— A Movable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway