家开始的时候,我什么都没看清,或许是你牵着我的小手,叩开一扇门。我不知道过去、现在和未来,是怎样的颜色?在怎样地运行?后来我跟着你,捡一根木梗在沙地上描绘你的肖像。然后用积木堆砌门、窗、屋檐,还有一圈栅栏。那年我远足郊外,把你落在身后。我们在月亮爬上树梢时,搭起帐篷挡风,并用来切割黑暗。篷内,我们点起火烛,晃动温馨;笑声和 When the family started, I did not see anything, maybe you took my little hand and knocked open a door. I do not know the past, present and future, what kind of color? How to run? Later, I followed you, picked up a wood stalk depicting your portrait in the sand. And then pile building blocks, windows, eaves, and a circle of fences. That year I went hiking in the suburbs and left you behind. As we climbed the treetops of the moon, we put tent tents to wind and cut the darkness. Inside the canopy, we lit up the firecrackers, shaking warmly;