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年纪,永不可跨越。时间,我们怎么也回不去。这不是谁在刻意安排,也不是我们在描述自己的故事。我想,稻田应该知道那种味道。在草长莺飞的年纪,我们都还如同沙滩上洁白的贝壳,没有理会时间的召唤和莫名路途的沧桑。在晴朗的天气里,搭上一个梦想,和影子、树叶、青石板、阳光、蝴蝶、油菜花、路人逐个擦肩而过。我居住的房子门口,有一片稻田。那时候,我有一个单亲家庭的邻居,叫小雨。我和小雨相处了四年,从
Age, never cross. Time, how can we not go back. This is not who is arranging it, nor is it the story we are describing ourselves. I think the paddy field should know the taste. At the age of grassy birds, we all also like the white shells on the beach, ignoring the call of time and the inexplicable vicissitudes of life. In a clear day, catch a dream, and shadows, leaves, quartzite, sunshine, butterflies, rape, passers -by one by one pass. I live in front of the house, there is a rice field. At that time, I had a neighbor of a one-parent family, called a light rain. I have spent four years with the rain, from