跟你分享《Man's Search for Meaning》的這一段。
Let us observe the majority of prisoners when they happened to work near each other and were, for once, not closely watched. They would immediately start discussing food. One fellow would ask another working next to him in the ditch what his favorite dishes were. Then they would exchange recipes and plan the menu for the day when they would have a reunion – the day in a distant future when they would be liberated and returned home. They would go on and on, picturing it all in detail, until suddenly a warning was passed down the trench, usually in the form of a special password or number. “The guard is coming.”
Viktor Frankl 寫得平淡，我卻看得心裡不舒服。人失去了希望就跟動物沒兩樣。他們夢見吃的，聊著吃的，但肚子空空如也。彷彿苟存在集中營的人就連幻想也顯得奢侈。
