我怎么也想不到会与这场雨、这个行进的队伍在艺术桥上不期而遇。三月的巴黎还是很冷,雨水淋湿了披肩、帽子和他们愁苦的表情,但他们还是继续跟随着年轻女子在桥上一遍又一遍地走着。我把这看成是不断重复的送别,是去参加没完没了的葬礼。队伍行进的指挥者是一个身材矮小、其貌不扬的小个子青年,他在一旁调度着摄影和录音。 I can not think of how this rain will come together. This marching team meets unexpectedly on the Art Bridge. Paris was still cold in March, wet rain shawls, hats and their sad expression, but they continue to follow the young woman walking on the bridge over and over again. I see this as a repeat farewell to attend the endless funeral. The leader of the team was a young man of short stature who was on the sidelines of his photography and recording.