上帝把所有蜜色的墙和影子都给了你,你用来种红色的天竺葵,用来裁风的影子,画蝴蝶的翅膀,装饰你的庭院。在科尔多瓦,我们用整整一个下午的时间穿越古老的旧城街巷。浑身都金灿灿的,在迷宫样的巷子里走,看一堵堵纯色的墙被阳光切割成条,零零碎碎地在墙上涂鸦。早上九点,天空就升得老高,头顶没有一丝云,一条路无限延长,斜斜的金光里,建筑物一半纯金一半深黑,半明半暗,拱形,正方,三角形,童话里的积木一块块自由搭建,深深浅浅的线条竖起来,轮廓分明,每一笔都好像毕加索随手画上去的。三三两两的背包客从身边走过,脚步寂静无声,只有“哒哒”的马车招摇过市,扬起阵阵轻尘,风一样消失在幽深窄长的高墙下。 God gave you all the honey-colored walls and shadows you used to plant red geraniums, to cut the shadow of the wind, to draw the wings of a butterfly, to decorate your courtyard. In Cordoba, we cross the ancient old city streets with a full afternoon. Covered in golden, walking in the labyrinth of the alley, look at a block of solid color wall was cut into sunshine, piecemeal graffiti on the wall. At nine o’clock in the morning, the sky was as old as ever. There was no cloud in the head. There was an infinite extension of the road. The sloping golden light was half dark and half dark in the building, half dark, arched, square, triangular and fairy tale The blocks are free to build blocks, deep shallow lines erected, clear outline, each pen is like Picasso readily drawn up. Two hundred and twenty-two backpackers walked from the side, the pace of silence, only “da da ” wagging the market, raising bursts of light and dust, like the wind disappeared in the deep, narrow walls.