November light enters the living room at ten past nine and stops just short of the bookshelf. I have measured it three winters in a row now. Nothing in the plan predicted this. I move the chair anyway and let the room decide where I sit.译十一月的光在九点十分进入客厅，到书架前一点就停住了。这件事我已经连着三个冬天量过。图纸上没有任何一条线预言过它。我还是把椅子挪了挪，让房间来决定我坐在哪里。
From the roof of the lycée the sea looks like a sheet of tin somebody forgot to fold. I come up here after the last class to let my voice rest. Below, the courtyard empties in pieces. Somewhere a boy is still arguing about the borders of 1962.译从学校的屋顶看下去，海像一块被人忘了折起来的铁皮。下课后我常上来，让嗓子歇一歇。下面的院子一点一点空掉。某个角落还有个男孩在为 1962 年的边界跟人争。
Five in the morning at the fish dock, the light still grey. I walk the row twice before I buy anything. The men know me now and lift the lid of the crate without being asked. Sea smell stays on my wrists all day, and I don't mind it.译清晨五点的码头，天还是灰的。我沿着鱼摊来回走两趟才肯掏钱。摊主们如今认得我，不用开口就把箱盖掀开。海腥味在手腕上留一整天，我不介意。
From the roof the city looks like something poured out and left to cool. I waited until the last light hit the minarets and the TV towers at the same moment, and then the battery died. Four frames. I stayed another hour anyway.译从屋顶看下去，城市像被倒出来摊在那儿慢慢冷却的东西。我一直等到最后一束光同时落在宣礼塔和电视塔上，然后电池没电了。四张。我照样又待了一个小时。
Tuesday. The spine of our most-borrowed atlas gave way again, at the same page as last time. I keep a jar of glue behind the counter and mend while the fans turn. The children think repairing a book is a punishment. I think it is the closest thing to a welcome.译星期二。那本被借得最勤的地图册又散了脊，还是同一页。柜台后面我常年放一罐胶水，风扇转着，我就慢慢粘。孩子们觉得补书是惩罚。我倒觉得，这更接近一种欢迎。
At two the city belongs to bakers and street cleaners. I unlock the side door, switch the lights on one row at a time, and let the room warm up before I touch anything. The first thing I do is listen: the fridge humming, nothing else.译两点钟的城市属于面包师和清洁工。我打开侧门，一排一排地开灯，让屋子先暖起来，再动手。第一件事是听：冰箱在响，别的什么声音都没有。
The tank settled at 18.2 overnight. I wipe the sample valve with alcohol, pull forty millilitres, taste it warm and flat — banana, a little clove, nothing to fix today. I write the number in the logbook, scratch Barley behind the ear, and put the kettle on.译那罐昨晚稳定在 18.2 度。我用酒精擦了取样阀，接了四十毫升，温着、没气的时候尝——香蕉味，一点点丁香，今天没什么要补救的。数字记进本子，挠了挠 Barley 的耳后，然后烧水。
Five in the morning at the valley station, one lamp and a notebook. I walk the line before the first cabin moves, palm on the cable, listening for the small hesitation near the third tower. At 7:10 the doors close and I already know what the weather will do.译清晨五点，山谷站只有一盏灯和我。第一班车厢出发前，我沿着索道走一遍，手掌贴着缆绳，听第三座塔架附近那一点迟疑。七点十分车门合上时，我今天会遇到什么样的天气，心里已经有数了。
Four in the morning, the dock is still black water and rope. I count containers by the numbers stencilled on their sides until the sky goes grey. Twenty years of this, and my shoulder still tells me when rain is coming.译凌晨四点，码头还是黑水与缆绳。我按箱体上的喷码数集装箱，一直数到天发灰。干了二十年，肩膀到现在还会替我预报下雨。
Four forty in the depot and the yard lights are the only ones awake. I walk the length of the train, tapping wheels, listening for anything that shouldn't be there. Thin gloves. Ten years of this and I still come early enough to be cold.译四点四十的车场，只有院子里的灯还醒着。我沿着列车走一遍，敲敲车轮，听有没有不该有的声响。手套很薄。干了十年，我还是早到，早到足够把自己冻着。
The café by the old market opens at seven. I come after buying vegetables, before sleep, and order iced coffee with too much condensed milk. The fans turn. Nobody speaks to me. For one hour my hands smell of nothing but soap.译老市场旁的咖啡馆七点开门。我买完菜、还没睡，就进去点一杯炼乳放多了的冰咖啡。吊扇转着，没人跟我说话。那一个小时里，我手上只有肥皂味。
I cross the Arno a little before seven, when the bridge still belongs to delivery carts and pigeons. The light comes off the water and lands on the gold, on the shutters, on my sleeves. I have walked this way for eleven years and still slow down in the middle, where the river is widest.译不到七点我就过阿诺河，那时桥上还只属于送货的小车和几只鸽子。光从水面折上来，落在金饰上、落在百叶窗上、落在我的袖口。这条路我走了十一年，还是会走到河面最宽的那一段放慢脚步。
Whiteboard markers never survive a sprint planning. I drew the same three boxes four times before the team agreed on where the queue should sit. Outside, the rain had already started. Someone had written "deploy on Friday?" in the corner. I capped the pen and said nothing.译白板笔从来撑不过一次迭代会。同一组三个方框我画了四遍，大家才同意队列该放在哪一层。窗外已经下起雨，有人在角落写了句「周五上线？」。我把笔盖扣上，什么也没说。
Testing a new foundation along my jaw, in the grey light that comes through the blinds before eight. The linen shirt is creased at the cuff and I leave it that way. Half my face is done; the other half is still last night. I film the difference and say nothing.译八点前，百叶窗漏进来的灰光里，我在下颌试一支新粉底。亚麻衬衫的袖口皱着，我懒得去理。半张脸上好了，另半张还停在昨晚。我把这个差别拍下来，一句话也没说。
By six the espresso machine is warm and the beach is still grey. I open the doors, stack the chairs, and watch three surfers cross the road with boards under their arms. My shift ends at ten. After that the day is mine, and the swell is meant to hold until evening.译六点，咖啡机已经热了，海滩还是灰的。我开门、摞椅子，看三个人夹着板子过马路。十点下班，之后一整天都是我的；听说浪会撑到傍晚。
The first cabin leaves at eight, but I am at the bullwheel by six, a lamp between my teeth, checking the grips one by one. Andorra City is still dark below me. At this hour the mountain belongs to me and the wind, and neither of us talks much.译第一班缆车八点出发，可我六点就站在转向轮旁，叼着手电，一个一个检查抱索器。山下的安道尔城还黑着。这个钟点，山只属于我和风，而我们俩都不太说话。
The light reaches the third window at nine and lands on the loom. I don't switch on the lamp until it leaves. In that hour the wool shows me where the dye went uneven, and those are the knots I pull first. My grandfather worked by this same window. The table has never moved.译九点，光才爬到第三扇窗，正落在织架上。灯要等它挪走以后才开。那一个钟头里，毛线会自己告诉我哪一段染得不匀，我先拆的就是那些结。祖父当年也在这扇窗下做活，桌子一直没挪过。
At three in the morning the bakery is the quietest room in Graz. The dough has been proofing since eleven; it gives under my palm without argument. I shape eight loaves, score them, and listen to the oven tick as it heats. Nobody needs anything from me until dawn.译凌晨三点，面包房是格拉茨最安静的房间。面团从十一点开始发，掌心按下去，它顺从地回弹。我整形八只面包，划口，听烤箱升温时的轻响。天亮之前，谁也不需要我。
Three days in the mountains with a manuscript I had already read twice. Snow kept coming, so I stayed in the lodge and went through chapter nine again. Altitude makes you slow and honest. I came home with four pages of notes and very cold hands.译带着一份已经读过两遍的稿子在山里待了三天。雪一直下，我索性留在旅舍，把第九章又过了一遍。高处的空气让人慢下来，也让人诚实。回来时带着四页笔记和一双冻僵的手。
I buy mangoes at five, when the market still smells of wet concrete. Nam Dok Mai, just soft at the stem. At home the sticky rice steams while I slice; by six the kitchen is a fog. People think the stall starts at night. It starts here, with my hands smelling of coconut.译五点去买芒果，市场还带着湿水泥的气味。挑那一篓熟到蒂头刚软的。回家把糯米上锅蒸，我一边切芒果，六点厨房里已经一层雾。别人以为我的摊子是晚上才开张，其实是从这里开始的——两手都是椰浆味。
Rain since morning, so I took the corner seat at the café and stayed past three refills. A gray cat owns the window ledge; I have drawn her eleven times and she has never once looked at me. Today the sketch finally caught the tilt of her ear.译一早下雨，我占了咖啡馆角落的位置，续了三杯也没走。窗台上有一只灰猫，是这儿的房东；我画过她十一次，她一次都没看我。今天这张，总算画对了她耳朵歪下去的角度。
I reach the sand at twenty past five, before the light has decided anything. Arpoador is empty except for two men mending a net. The water is flat and grey and cold on the ankles. I sit with my board for ten minutes and do nothing at all. That part is also the job.译五点二十我就到了沙滩上，天光还没定下来。Arpoador 空着，只有两个男人在补网。海面平、发灰，脚踝一沾就凉。我抱着板坐十分钟，什么也不做。这也是工作的一部分。
The boat leaves at six ten. Before that there is only diesel, ice, and the sound of tanks knocking together in the dark. I check every valve twice, the way my uncle taught me. By the time the sun clears the cayes we are past the channel, and nobody has said a word.译六点十分开船。在那之前只有柴油、冰块，和气瓶在暗处相互碰撞的声音。每个阀门我都检查两遍，是舅舅教我的做法。太阳从凯岛后面升起来时，我们已经过了航道，谁都没说话。
Six in the morning and the field is still grey. I walk the rows in a cotton vest over my shirt, pinching petals between two fingers, setting aside the ones that opened too fast. By nine the sun has made the whole valley smell sweet and faintly burnt.译六点，花田还是灰的。我套着棉背心走过一行行玫瑰，用两根手指捏开花瓣，把开得太急的那些挑到一边。到九点，太阳已经把整个山谷晒成一种甜里带焦的气味。
Two in the morning, Glavnata is empty and the marble slabs still hold the day's heat. I push once and let the wheels do the rest. A guard watches from his booth, decides I am not worth the paperwork, and looks away. I ride home with graphite on my palms.译凌晨两点，主街空了，大理石板还留着白天的余温。我蹬一下，剩下的交给轮子。岗亭里的保安看了我一会儿，大概觉得为我填表不值当，就把头转开了。我带着一手石墨粉骑回家。
The shop stays at nine degrees until noon. I wear the burgundy cardigan under the apron, sleeves pushed past the elbow, and by ten the wool already smells faintly of chain oil. Cold hands work slower, which is not always a bad thing.译车铺到中午都只有九度。酒红色针织衫穿在围裙里面，袖子推到肘上，到十点钟羊毛上已经有了淡淡的链条油味。手冷的时候干活慢，慢也不全是坏事。
六点半到店里，先把水烧上。紫砂壶昨晚没擦干，壶盖上一圈白痕，用茶巾慢慢磨掉。窗外苏堤那边有人练嗓子，声音飘过来又散了。第一泡照例是自己喝的，不算生意。
Six forty in the Gothic Quarter. The street cleaners are still out and the only light comes down in narrow strips between the buildings. I wait for a man to cross the frame, then wait again for him to leave it. Two exposures. Then coffee, standing up, before the shops open.译六点四十的哥特区。清洁工还没收工，光从楼与楼之间窄窄地漏下来。我等一个人走进画面，又等他走出去。两次快门。然后在店铺开门前站着喝掉一杯咖啡。
The dog came in already muzzled, bought the day after the first bite. I took it off before the exam. Behind the bandage the ear was hot and badly swollen. Most of what people call aggression is a sore tooth and no way to say so. He let me look. The owner apologised to the dog, not to me.译那只狗被送来时已经戴上了嘴套，是它第一次咬人之后第二天买的。检查前我把它摘了。绷带底下，耳朵烫得厉害，肿成一片。人们口中的『凶』，多半是一颗坏牙，和一句说不出口的话。它让我看了。最后道歉的是主人，对着狗，不是对着我。
Before the sun clears the wall, a white sedan is already coughing at my gate. I put my palm on the bonnet and listen: a valve, not the pump. The owner argues with me for a while. I let him. When I take the cover off, he goes quiet. I was twelve the first time I could name that sound.译太阳还没翻过墙，一辆白色轿车就在门口咳起来。我把手掌按在引擎盖上听：是气门，不是油泵。车主跟我争了几句，我没接话。掀开盖子以后他自己不说了。十二岁那年，我第一次能叫出这种声音的名字。
