旅行的藝術(shù):回歸 Ⅸ 習(xí)慣-1

1 我從巴巴多斯回到倫敦，發(fā)現(xiàn)這座城市依然固執(zhí)地拒絕改變。我已看到蔚藍(lán)的天空和巨大的海葵；我曾經(jīng)睡在一間以酒椰纖維做屋頂?shù)暮叾燃傥?，吃下一條大魚；我曾和小海龜一同游泳；在椰子樹的樹陰下讀書。但是故鄉(xiāng)卻沒有給我很好的印象。它仍然在下雨。公園滿是積水，天空仍然是陰暗的。當(dāng)我們心情很好，而又看到陽光明媚時，我們會很容易將產(chǎn)生于我們自身之內(nèi)的情緒歸因于周圍環(huán)境所給予的影響。然而在我返回的時候，倫敦的外表卻提醒我，世界對發(fā)生在人們身上的任何事件的冷漠。返回倫敦使我感到絕望。我注定要在這個可怕的城市生活下去。在這個地球，恐怕沒有幾個地方比這里更糟了。

I returned to London from Barbados to find that the city had stubbornly refused to change. I had seen azure skies and giant sea anemones, I had slept in a raffia bungalow and eaten a kingfish, I had swum beside baby turtles and read in the shade of coconut trees. But the home town was unimpressed. It was still raining. The park was still a pond, and the skies funereal. When we are in a good mood and it is sunny, it is tempting to impute a connection between what happens inside and outside of us, but the appearance of London on my return was a reminder of the indifference of the world to any of the events unfolding in the lives of its inhabitants. I felt despair to be home. I felt there could be few worse places on earth than the one I had been fated to spend my existence in.