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毕业的那个夏天,全部女生都穿着高跟鞋参加了同学聚会。裙摆之下,脚背弓成优雅的弧度,脚躁纤细明朗,每个人都浅笑嫣然。而我站在她们之中,忽然有长大成人的错觉。提起高跟鞋,我想起的第一个人永远是玛丽莲·梦露。那个将左脚鞋跟削短半寸的女人,走起路来摇曳生姿,一袭大红色的裙子灼痛了多少人的眼。高跟鞋于她,是风情,是盔甲,是山涧之下那开得正好的野桃树。自此之后,无论生命中多少人来人往,年华总是热烈喧闹的。偏偏那是十七岁的我,连想也不敢想的风景。
The summer of graduation, all girls wear high heels to attend a class reunion. Under the skirt, the arch of the feet into an elegant arc, slender and delicate impatient, everyone smiling bright smile. And I stand among them, suddenly have the illusion of growing up. Lift high heels, I remember the first person will always be Marilyn Monroe. The woman who shortened the left heel by half an inch walked like a swaying creature and burned the big red skirt to the burning eyes of many people. High heels in her, is the style, is the armor, is that under the mountain stream that just opened wild peach trees. Since then, no matter how many people come and go in life, Love is always loud noisy. It happens that I am seventeen years old, even think I can not think of the landscape.