雨,淅淅沥沥,像一根根银线在空中斜织,我静静地坐在窗边,在连绵的“滴答”声中发呆。“姐,你看这花儿漂亮吗?”弟弟拿着一株开得正盛、红得逼人眼的野花,在我面前摇晃,我点点头,接过这还沾着雨水的小花儿,在手中轻抚,记忆的光束便这样毫无征兆地闪射……小时候,我不爱动,当小伙伴们嬉闹时,我只会静静地站在一边看。 Rain, pattering, like a root silver wire in the air weaving, I sit quietly by the window, in a continuous “ticking” sound in a daze. “Sister, you see this flower is beautiful?” "My brother holding a bloom is open, red eyesight wildflowers, shaking in front of me, I nodded, took this still stained with small flowers of rain Child, stroking in his hand, the memory of the light beam so flashing without warning ... ... as a child, I do not love moving, when the little friends frolic, I will only quietly stood watching.