“Hello darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence.”
谭璟扬叼着烟,随着音乐的节奏一下下用食指叩着自行车把。记忆中那间充斥着洗衣粉味道的小屋里,有台老式的黑色录音机。上面罩着用红色天鹅绒制成的布,总会在每天的午后被人打开。 放得就是这首《the sound of silence》。