Humidity, stifling heat, noisy conversations, the sound of car exhaust hitting the glass ...... I finished watching movie Parasite in that rainy semi-basement, touched the musty quilt and fell into a deep sleep. In fact, I didn't rent this small 30 sq. ft. room converted from a storage room underneath because I couldn't afford it, but it was the only single room close to the school that the agent had at the time - I was used to seeing many people who had private opinions about the epidemic being taken away "without a hitch". I didn't want to share my life, and my thoughts, with others.
God said let there be light and obviously that there is not my place, as my room only receives some reflected light due to the shade of the balcony poking out from the first floor. Apparently the owner feels that people who live here don't need any enlightenment, like me - there are always middle-class literati who praise The Basement Handbook from a hunting perspective, which I find boring, because when you live there it's that crazy batch look. "Whereas prisons used to deprive prisoners of light, today's epileptic society deprives them of darkness." In that semi-basement, if you want, you can ample darkness can make like a classic fairy tale, dwelling in the dense aura of evil sorcerer makes you daily just want to think about how to destroy all the beauty outside the small window - you can see through that only small window those laughter lap coming and going, and put your face close to the window to scare them. In fact, the only thing you have to worry about living there are the more irrational creatures - some shade-loving centipedes, little bugs that get in through all kinds of cracks.
In fact, the old Chinese literati saying "This is a leaky room, only my virtues make it smell sweet" is even more impossible, only to say that they do not live in enough ugly. Even if the landlord did several layers of waterproofing, and also installed an exhaust fan, as long as it is the rainy season, the whole city drainage system emits malicious will crowd your room. In the worst case, just like in the movie, repeated rainfall will always mark you with a "poor man's smell". I didn't feel it at first, but when I started to "walk up" back to the campus like the main character in the movie after gradually unsealing, you realize that the people who come out from those who live in the high, light-grabbing rooms are not the same as those who live in the low darkness underneath. So I can't agree with not only the Chinese literati, but also Byron's so-called she walks in the beauty, like night.