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你听,风在耳边呼喊。你是否还记得我对你诉说过的每一个故事。我知道,答案是否定的。其实,是你不愿意作答。我听着心灵电台,听着安静的配乐,抱着小熊,想象着这句话。旅途总是漫长的。你听,那车轮和铁轨摩擦的声音,你听,风在耳边呼啸的声音。我望着窗外的菜田,吮吸那弥漫着的,成熟了的油麦菜所散发的幽香。那是世上最美的味道,甜蜜而温和,油麦菜总是这样的味道,味觉和嗅觉都让人安详。从我眼中掠过的风,洗清潮湿眼眶里所有欲流的液体,吹走盐分,吹走污浊。不让他们腐蚀我的脸庞,不让他们
You listen, the wind shouts in the ear. Do you still remember every single story I told you? I know, the answer is no. In fact, you do not want to answer. I listened to the telegraph, listened to the quiet soundtrack, holding the bear, imagining this remark. The journey is always long. Listen, the sound of friction between the wheel and the railroad track, the sound of the wind whistling in the ear. I looked out the window to the vegetable fields and sucked the fragrance of the filled, mature lettuce. That is the most beautiful taste of the world, sweet and mild, lettuce always such a taste, taste and smell are peace of mind. The wind swept through my eyes, wash all the liquid in the wet eyes, blowing away the salt, blowing away the dirty. Do not let them corrode my face, do not let them