My head is directing me around, but it’s not having much success. Maybe I’ve had one too many pints. Or five. The world tilts like a carnival ride, and I clutch the lamppost like it’s the only thing keeping me from sliding into the gutter.
吃完饭从餐馆回来的时候打开了一个很久以前的歌单，名字是“空灵”。
"Look," Arthur repeated, "it's genuinely elegant. A win-win-win situation! Crystal clear." He ticked them off on his fingers, each point delivered with the serene certainty of a man explaining gravity to a feather:
It was a good night, one of those rare windy evenings towards the end of summer and the start of fall.
The pavement beneath my feet hums, low enough to be ignored, but just loud enough to make my bones tremble.
You start to realise something is wrong as the elevator lights blink and pop. There’s always something wrong when the lights are malfunctioning – you’ve read enough horror stories to know that.
Whilst I wandered, my feet misty and disconnected from my lofty organ, through the fog-licked stone sidewalks of this metropolis at this unhallowed hour, swathed in the somber wool of my traveling coat, which was steeped in the musk of factories and dampened by the exhalations of the Thames, I felt a most peculiar disquiet, slithering about through my person in the most unpleasant of ways.
前几天看了2009 RDJ + Jude Law版大侦探福尔摩斯，今天来写个（very biased的）影评
Fern’s notebook was spread out in front of him, its pages white and pristine. It was urging him to write something, but at the same time, it seemed so daunting a task that he dared not move his pen.
It looked so different at night.