Love is an ugly terrible business practiced by fools, it will trample your heart and leave you bleeding on your floor; Love ends, but you will never forget it
想起了乔治奥威尔的Marrakech当他走入北非贫民窟的是时候他writes, the people have brown faces, besides, there are so many of them! are they really the same flesh as yourself? Do they even have names? or are they merely a kind of undifferentiated brown stuff, about as individual as bees or coral insects?