“你是不是像我整天忙着追求,追求一种意想不到的温柔。”路过北京中关村的昊海楼,里面传来断断续续的歌声。记忆被歌曲带回到高三的政治课堂:周围同学们哇啦哇啦地背书,我盯着课本出神。这时,同桌递过来耳机与我分享胡彦斌的新专辑,这是我第一次听《我的未来不是梦》。此后,这首歌简直成了我们俩的精神鸦片,只要不开心,就翻出来听一听,顿时感觉自己变成了一只灌满风的帆船,蓄势待发。 “Isn’t you pursuing like I am busy all day and pursuing an unexpected tenderness.” Passing through the Bohai Building in Zhongguancun, Beijing, there were intermittent songs. Memories were brought back to the political class of the third year by the songs: The students around woke up to endorse the book, and I stared at the textbook. At this time, at the same table handed over the headset to share with me Hu Yanbin’s new album, this is my first time listening to “My future is not a dream.” Since then, this song has become the spiritual opium of both of us. If we are not happy, we will turn it up and listen to it. It suddenly feels like we have become a sailboat filled with wind and ready to go.