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安素,我们还剩下多少生命?世界上有太多太多的事可以预知,它们的轨迹清晰明确,一目了然。我自诩聪明,可算来算去终究抓不到关于世界的丝毫隐喻,算不出那未知的数字。人生旅途的长度,对我来说是一个随风流浪的谜,无从知晓。也许有一天,它飘摇得累了,就会安定下来,等待着我平静淡然地揭开谜底。安素,大概这世上没有谁知道自己生命的长度,正如没有谁能够真正掌握命运。年年岁岁,朝朝暮暮,那些平淡无奇、惊心动魄的巧合不断上演,微乎其微,撼人心扉的劫难不断显现,生命
Ansul, how many lives are we left behind? There are so many things in the world that can be predicted. Their trajectories are clear and clear at a glance. I am self-absorbed, can be counted to finally catch the slightest metaphor on the world, can not figure out the unknown figure. The length of life journey, to me is a wandering mystery, can not know. Perhaps one day, it drift too tired, it will settle down, waiting for me calmly and indifferently reveal the answer. Ansul, probably no one in the world who knows the length of their lives, just as no one can really grasp the fate. Years old, dynastic twilight, those bland, soul-stirring coincidental staged, minimal, shake the hearts of catastrophe continue to emerge, life