The other day—as I was making my excuses about the podcast and invoking the fact that I, like everyone else, must eventually turn to dust—a friend of mine lay dying.
在前些天解释自己为何疏于更新播客的文章里，我提到了一位朋友的离世，于是想到自己和其他人一样终究难免一死。
Before it lay a smoking iron-mine in a field of uprooted trees, which the giant miners had torn up in their search for iron nuggets.
城墙前面的树被连根拔起，底下是冒着烟的铁矿，被巨人们挖开了寻找铁块的。
A card of mine lay on the table; this being perceived, brought my name under discussion.
桌上放着我的一张名片，他们一看见便谈论起我来了。
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