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我们一直在寻找一个渡口,古老与陈旧仿佛延续了千年的渡口。渡口处有一只小船,小船很窄,窄得只能容下你和摆渡的老叟。船身上刻满了不为人所知晓的古朴字样,连桨上,也遍布着奇怪的图案。摆渡的老叟花白了头发和胡子,双眼仿佛闪烁着什么。他从不讲话,只是或悲悯或怜惜地载着每一个想去河对岸的人。这条河,叫做长大;而这个老叟的名字,是时间。迷津欲有问,平海夕漫漫。我在面对许多的单行线和不可选择之后,终于不可避免地学会了一个词,它叫怀念。是的,我无比怀念
We are always looking for a ferry, an old and an old, as if the millennium ferry. There is a boat at the ferry, the boat is narrow and narrow so that it can hold you and the ferry’s old widow. The boat was covered with the ancient words that were not known, even the paddles, but also all over the strange pattern. The old ferocious ferry white hair and beard, his eyes flashing as if. He never spoke, but just or compassionately or pityfully carrying everyone who wanted to go to the other side of the river. This river, called the growing up; and the name of this old man, it is time. Lets want to ask, flat sea night diffuse. I face a lot of one-way and can not choose the inevitable, I finally learned a word, it is called memory. Yes, I really miss