那时候我上初二,坐在左边靠窗的位置上。我记得那是上午的第三节历史课,中国的近代史不知道为什么听起来那么没劲。于是我转过头,碎发落入眼帘,墨黑。窗户的外面是天空,湛蓝。被轰隆的飞机划过的是云,雪白。愣愣地出了神,被老师点了名,脸上微微地发烧,桃红。瞳孔自然地收缩扩张,微微融化着这些色块,脑海中突如其来的意念逐渐清晰,像是一本画册,光洁的纸质,让人产生亲吻的欲望。然而你是否还清晰地记得,那些最原始的信仰,泛着怎样的色泽? At that time I was on the 2nd, sitting on the left side of the window. I remember that was the history lesson in the third quarter of the morning. China’s modern history does not know why it sounds so boring. So I turned my head and my hair fell into my eyes, darkened. Outside the window is the sky, blue. The banged plane was clouded and white. The god was devastated and was named by the teacher. His face had a slight fever and pink. Pupils naturally contract and dilate, slightly melting these color blocks, and the minds in the mind suddenly become clear, like an album, smooth paper, people have the desire to kiss. However, do you still remember clearly, what kind of color are those most primitive beliefs?