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希望是清晨第一声鸟鸣代替闹钟打断我的沉眠,愿意是第一片落叶而非天气预报告知我已然入秋。如果可以,宁可做一个像梭罗般隐居的森林人。对我而言,写作是:某一个电光石火间,记起一些事情,然后思想的花在笔尖盛开。——盛开在一张纸上。盛开在半空。不知是幸或是不幸,我们行走在这个匆忙时代。可以面对很多前人想都不敢想的机遇,可以做着他们听都没听过的事,却无缘看见他们眼中的青空万里、日光倾城。——与其说无缘,不如说我们忙碌到忘却了自己还有观察世界的能力。程式化生活、复制粘贴,这些无须动脑的固定模式喂养了我们的惰性,惰性又膨胀到吞噬
Hope is the first sound of birdsong instead of the alarm interrupt my sleep, is willing to be the first leaf rather than the weather forecast told me already fall. If you can, rather be a solitary like Thoreau forest people. For me, the writing is: one of the electric firestone fire, remember something, and then the thought of the flowers in the nibs in full bloom. - Blooming on a piece of paper. Blooming in mid-air. I do not know fortunate or unfortunate, we walk in this haste. They can face the opportunities that many of their predecessors never dreamed about. They can do what they have not heard before, but they have no chance of seeing the blue skies they see in their eyes. - Not so much as saying that we are busy to forget that they have the ability to observe the world. Stylized living, copy-and-paste, these brain-less, fixed patterns feed our inertness, inertness, and sweltering