我一直相信,我是一个行走的人。天空的安静,脚的行走,静静地望着天空。光景流失,回想很多。记忆是根长长的线,在我走过的路上缠绕。我沿着它的痕迹,一路往回,看见琐碎的自己,安静地走在岁月的大马路上。走,脚步懒散,身上的影子模糊,像老旧相机留下记忆。沿途有许多陌生的人,三三两两,他们看我,我也看他们。我们都是对方视觉里的路人,我记得,十几年如一段简单的旅程,时光流转消逝,我回头看看自 I always believe that I am a walking person. The quiet sky, walking feet, quietly looking at the sky. Lost, recall a lot. Memory is a long, long line, wrapped around the path I walked through. I followed its mark, all the way back, saw the trivial themselves, walk quietly on the road of years. Go, lazy pace, the body’s shadow blur, leaving memories like the old camera. There are many strangers along the way, in twos and threes, they look at me, I also look at them. We are passers-by in each other’s visuals. As I recall, for a dozen years, as a simple journey, time passes and I look back at