多年前,和一个朋友深夜畅谈,所有的话题都谈到极致,确定我们处处合拍之后,他低下头,再抬头时,以一种下定决心,要说出自己是卧底、是吸血鬼,或者曾经目击不明飞行物般的表情问我:“你有没有那种感觉,在春天,突然觉得空气的味道不对了,心酸酸的?”我知道的。在这临河的城市,最先有春意的,必然是空气。大河从草地上来,一路裹挟着各种讯息,沿路抓丁拉夫一般地越滚越大。临到我们这里,已经千军万马,却毫无声息,像一场看不见的行军,只是空气里有冰雪融化、草叶迸绿、泥土松动的味道。尽管在 Years ago, when I was chatting with a friend late at night, all the topics talked about the ultimate. After confirming that we were all in the same place, he looked down and looked up with determination to say that he was undercover, vampire, or witnessed UFO-like expression asked me: “Do you have that feeling, in the spring, suddenly felt the smell of air is wrong, sad?” "I know. In this city of Linhe, the first spring, it must be the air. The river came from the grass, all the way to coerce a variety of messages, along the path grab the Droom generally larger and larger. It has come to us with a mighty force, but with no sound, like an invisible march, except that the air has melted snow and green leaves with loose soil. Despite it