记忆,有如发了疯的男子,总在耳边呢喃,让你觉得非得把那段长达几星期和几年的生活用一个形式表达出来,再配上一行字,这叫作品的名字。人们或多或少可以站在那儿顺着标出的线索去寻找艺术创作的蛛丝马迹,也许这就是艺术家带给人类的意义。开春了的北京好像没有经过冬天,薄片的冰上有人站立,但我没敢去,右腿的关节处有风湿带来的隐痛。 Memory, like a crazy man, always whisper in the ear, make you feel that we have to put that period of several weeks and years of life in a form of expression, coupled with the line, called the name of the work. People are more or less able to stand clues along the clues to find the clues to artistic creation, perhaps this is what the artist brings to humankind. Beijing in the spring did not seem to go through the winter. Someone on the ice stood on the sheet, but I did not dare to go. The pain in the joints of the right leg was caused by rheumatism.