The old cinema on Katya's street has been closed for as long as she can remember. Its doors are chained, and its posters are faded. A small tree is growing out of the gutter above the entrance. She walks past it every day on her way to work and never looks up.
卡佳家那条街上的老电影院，据她记忆所及，一直关着。大门锁着链子，海报褪了色。入口上方的排水沟里长出一棵小树。她每天上班都从它前面走过，却从不抬头看。
Tonight she looks up. It is nearly eleven, and she is coming home late from a friend's birthday party. Through a crack in the side door, there is a thin line of yellow light. And she can hear something: slow, soft music, like the sound track of an old film.
今晚她抬头了。已经快十一点，她从朋友的生日派对回来得晚了。侧门的一道裂缝里，透出一线淡黄色的光。她还听见了什么：缓慢、轻柔的音乐，像一部老电影的配乐。
Katya stops. The street is empty. She tells herself it must be a security light, or the radio of a night guard. But the music changes, and then she hears a laugh.
卡佳站住了。街上空无一人。她告诉自己，那一定是保安灯，或者是夜班守卫的收音机。可是音乐变了，接着她听到一阵笑声。
The next evening, she comes back at the same time. The light is there again. The next night, too. By the third night, she has a theory for everything: a ghost, a secret club, a hidden visitor. None of them feels right, and she can't stop thinking about it.
第二天晚上，她在同一时间又回来了。那光又亮着。第三个晚上也是。到第三晚，她对什么都有了一套猜想：鬼魂、秘密俱乐部、藏起来的访客。没有一个让她觉得对，可她就是停不下来地想。
On Thursday, she decides to stop guessing. She takes a breath and knocks on the side door.
周四，她决定不再猜了。她深吸一口气，敲了敲侧门。
The music stops. For a moment, there is only silence. Then the door opens a few centimeters, and an elderly man looks out at her over his glasses.
音乐停了。有一会儿，只剩下寂静。然后门开了几厘米，一位老先生从眼镜上方看着她。
"Are you lost?" he asks.
“你迷路了吗？”他问。
"I'm just curious," Katya admits. "I've seen lights in here every night."
“我只是好奇，”卡佳承认道，“我每天晚上都看到这里有灯光。”
He studies her face, then opens the door wide. "You had better come in, then."
他打量着她的脸，然后把门全打开。“那你最好进来吧。”
Inside, the big room smells of dust and old velvet. Six or seven people, all over sixty, are working under bright lamps. A woman is gluing new fabric onto a seat. Two men are bent over the projector, which looks as heavy as a small car. A radio on a table plays the old film music.
里面，大厅里有灰尘和旧天鹅绒的气味。六七个人，都已年过六十，正在明亮的灯下干活。一位女士正往一个座位上粘新布面。两个男人俯身在放映机上，它看上去有一辆小汽车那么重。桌上的一台收音机放着老电影的音乐。
"We all worked here when we were young," the woman says. "Ticket seller, cleaner, projectionist. When the owner closed it, we promised we would bring it back someday. Then we decided that someday had to start now."
“我们年轻的时候都在这里工作过，”那位女士说，“卖票的、打扫的、放映员。老板关门时，我们许诺有一天要让它重新开起来。后来我们决定，这个‘有一天’得从现在开始。”
"We have the owner's permission," the old man adds quickly. "We only work at night because we are too tired in the afternoon."
“我们得到了老板的许可，”老先生连忙补充，“我们只在夜里干活，是因为下午我们太累了。”
Katya looks at the rows of seats, half of them still broken. "How many have you fixed?" she asks.
卡佳看着一排排座位，有一半还是坏的。“你们修好了多少个？”她问。
"Two hundred and ten," the woman says proudly. "Only four hundred to go."
“两百一十个，”那位女士自豪地说，“只剩四百个了。”
Katya takes off her jacket and picks up a screwdriver. Now, every Thursday evening, she walks to the side door and knocks twice. It always opens.
卡佳脱下外套，拿起一把螺丝刀。现在，每个周四的傍晚，她都走到侧门前，敲两下。它总是会打开。
