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请允许我想象,你收到这封信时的情形。我更愿意那是在一个夕光散漫的黄昏,晚霞像垂落的红纱巾,欲露还掩地遮着天空的半张脸。寒水长天,飞鸟缓缓振翅,远山如墨染。也或者,是在一个诗意漫漶的清晨。你指尖微凉,信笺来时,像是长风卷扬昨夜新雪,落于你眼睫之上。我不曾扳着指头算,这封信抵达时的日期。如果是在古时驿站,无须快马加鞭,且让它缓慢流转,牛皮纸在口袋里卷起毛边。这样最好。信握在你手里时,才会是柔软熟悉的温腻。我敢不敢寄你一张空白信纸,再想象你的皱眉叹气?也或者,夏时蔷薇冬时梅,一叶枯枝染了邮路,蜿蜒异香。真的,我只是想写信告诉你,窗
Allow me to imagine the situation when you received this letter. I prefer that it is in a glittering twilight, sunset like a drape of red scarf, to cover the sky to hide the face covered half. Cold days, birds slowly flapping wings, such as ink stains. Or, it is in a poetic early morning. When your fingertips are cool and the letterhead comes, it is like a wind blowing last night’s new snow, falling above your eyes. I did not turn my finger on the date when this letter arrived. If it is in the ancient post, there is no need to speed whiplash, and let it flow slowly, Kraft paper rolled in the pocketed edges. So much the better. When I hold the letter in your hand, it will be soft, warm, familiar. I dare to send you a piece of blank stationery, and then imagine your frown sigh? Or, when the summer rose winter plum, a leaf dead branches dyed the post, meandering. Really, I just want to write a letter to tell you, window