一次回访多伦美术馆那年在郊区旅馆的地下室餐厅吃早饭时,我读完了一部小说的最后几页。它是一本深灰色封面、镶着半公分黄色装饰边的口袋书。小说的尾声波澜不惊,没有连贯的对话,画面也毫无焦点,一切都乘着一股平淡无奇的自然力流向大街,男主人公的自画像被难以辨认地凝固在由公交车站和旋转栏栅门围起的嘈杂街景之中。我推开餐厅的门,铰链在身后发出了嘎吱声响,我以一步两级台阶的速度从旋转楼梯走上一楼。前台上方挂着三面指向不同时区的挂钟,自动落地玻璃大门好像坏了,一直处在试图不断关合的敞开 A visit to the Duolun Museum of Art That year in the suburbs hotel breakfast in the basement restaurant, I finished reading the last few pages of a novel. It is a dark gray cover with a half-cm yellow trim pocket book. The end of the novel placid, there is no coherent dialogue, the picture also has no focus, everything is riding an ordinary force flowing into the streets, the heroine’s self-portrait was illegally solidified by the bus stop and spin fence Among the noisy streets surrounded by doors. I pushed open the door to the restaurant, the hinge creaking behind me, and I walked up the spiral staircase to the first floor with one step and two steps. Hanging from above the front desk is a wall clock pointing to different time zones. The automatic glass door seems to be broken and has been in the open for an attempt to keep closing