Somtimes, agitated like a jucenile under the weight of his three times thirty years, my Esternome would ask me: Marie-Sophie, please forgive, but... what is freedom? While I answered he listened avidly, looking real happy, then his eyes would drown with pity. And then I, losing my nice airs, would realize that age didn't mean so much. One day, probably in the season of his coming death, he whispered: Sophie, bamboo flower, crutch of my old age, raindrop on my thirsty tongue. Oh Marie, my sweet madou syrup, one must not answer all questions... (查看原文)
![[法国] 帕特里克·夏穆瓦佐](https://img9.doubanio.com/view/personage/m/public/456b77dc61b26d9a58dbb0111cc69d04.jpg)
帕特里克·夏穆瓦佐 作者
还没人写过短评呢