合上龙应台的《目送》,余味悠长,一时间竟无言。该怎样评价这本书、这个人呢?我想,我终是不懂她,不懂她是怎样以纤细的笔触道出生命的哲思,是怎样以温情的文字描绘成长的痛楚。默然间,有一个声音叩击着心头,那是温暖而无奈的声音,就如妈妈在耳畔喃喃地叮嘱——“有些路啊,只能一个人走”。再次翻开《目送》,我用指尖轻轻触碰着这句话,就像妈妈轻轻摩挲着我的发。透过字里行间还 Close Lung Ying-ting’s “head”, long aftertaste, a time actually silent. How to evaluate this book, this person? I think, I finally do not understand her, do not understand how she is slender strokes of philosophy of life, how to describe the warmth of the pain of growing up. Suddenly, there is a voice tapping my heart, it is warm and helpless voice, just as my mother murmured in the ears told - “Some way, only one person to go.” Open again, “looking away”, I gently touch the phrase with my fingertips, just like my mother gently rub my hair. Through the lines between the lines