英语翻译when she was killed,it didn't seem right to cry,not that I felt like crying anyway.My mother had been a pragmatic woman,and it seemed much more pragmatic to hate,So that is what I did.I remember that by the morning after her death,I had c

英语翻译when she was killed,it didn't seem right to cry,not that I felt like crying anyway.My mother had been a pragmatic woman,and it seemed much more pragmatic to hate,So that is what I did.I remember that by the morning after her death,I had c
英语翻译
when she was killed,it didn't seem right to cry,not that I felt like crying anyway.My mother had been a pragmatic woman,and it seemed much more pragmatic to hate,So that is what I did.I remember that by the morning after her death,I had constructed a highly detailed facial image of the killer,and that I woke up several times that week screaming,my hands wrapped around his imaginary neck.
It really didn't take all that long for the dreams to start bleeding over from night to day.It would find my mind wandering,and settle on a vision of this man ,whose face was purely my creation ,lying in a pool of his own blood.His face was cortorted with the agony I'd inflicted on him,his lips still wrapped around his dying screams and his eyes still bulging at the sitht of the horrors I had visited on his body.

英语翻译when she was killed,it didn't seem right to cry,not that I felt like crying anyway.My mother had been a pragmatic woman,and it seemed much more pragmatic to hate,So that is what I did.I remember that by the morning after her death,I had c
自打她被杀之后,我们选择了坚强地面对,其实我也没有哭的冲动.况且母亲是个实事求是的女人,但憎恨也许更实事求是.正如我所做的,在她死后的那个早晨,我非常详细地绘制了一张高清晰的凶手脸部模拟图.整个黑色的一周,我好几次从睡梦中惊醒,撕心裂肺地喊着.仿佛梦里,我的双手就已经掐着他那根本不存在的喉咙.黑夜落幕,白昼降临,梦血流淌,思绪轻漂,最后梦呓冉冉着落在这个男子的影子上.我想着他躺在血泊之中,脸上充满我希望他承受的痛苦,想着他的双唇仍然在呐喊,想着他的双眼依旧充斥着我给他带来的恐怖,直瞪着我的脸庞.

她被杀死的那个时候，哭好像并不是很适当，我也没有哭的冲动。我妈是个实事求是的女人，而憎恨别人并不是她会做的事情。我也和她一样。在她死后的早上，我绘制了非常详细的凶手脸部构图。那个星期，有好几次我都嘶喊着从睡梦中醒来。梦里，我的双手已经掐着他那虚幻的颈项。黑夜转到白昼，梦在淌血。我的思绪漂浮，最后慢慢着落在这个男人的影像。我想象他躺在自己的血泊之中。他的脸上充满我希望他承受的痛苦，他的双唇好像仍然在...

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她被杀死的那个时候，哭好像并不是很适当，我也没有哭的冲动。我妈是个实事求是的女人，而憎恨别人并不是她会做的事情。我也和她一样。在她死后的早上，我绘制了非常详细的凶手脸部构图。那个星期，有好几次我都嘶喊着从睡梦中醒来。梦里，我的双手已经掐着他那虚幻的颈项。黑夜转到白昼，梦在淌血。我的思绪漂浮，最后慢慢着落在这个男人的影像。我想象他躺在自己的血泊之中。他的脸上充满我希望他承受的痛苦，他的双唇好像仍然在呐喊，双眼依旧瞪视着我给他带来的恐怖。

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