如果我的故事被传诵,那是因为你们还不够勇敢。今年五月,当细柳还在临水顾盼微风婀娜的时候,满大街的杨树却早已飞花相报,将片片棉絮浮入空中,似要承载起一方梦幻,以疏影间那一缕缕阳光的温热,来编织远方这一封写意的问候。赵姑娘说,我要启程去摆平小记者了。在五年前的一个秋日,当火车穿越江汉平原时,视野里忽然跳出一大片棉花地,当时天空清蓝,浮云微掠,下午的阳光在纯白花朵的掩映下,晴朗得仿如记忆里喧闹的童年。对座的小姑娘忽然问我,你喜欢棉质衣服么? If my story is sung, it is because you are not brave enough. In May of this year, when the fine willows are still facing the gentle breeze when Lin Shui, the poplar trees in the streets have long flown to the point where the pieces of cotton flutter float into the air as if to carry one side of the fantasy, The warmth of the sun, to weave a distant greetings. Zhao girl said, I have to leave to settle a small reporter. On an autumn day five years ago, when the train crossed the Jianghan Plain, all of a sudden the field of view jumped out of a large area of ​​cotton. At that time, the sky was clear blue and the clouds were lightly swept. In the afternoon, the sunshine shone brightly under the pure white flowers, Noisy childhood. Suddenly the young girl asked me, do you like cotton clothes?