爱情曾经发生,而今已消逝,如同黎明倏然到临,黑夜只得无声地褪去,又如火焰渐渐熄灭,被灼伤的手指还在疼痛。就是这番余味,青烟般熏绕在离别后的一个个干枯日子里,又如何去怀疑它的真实性?如此坚定只因无法否认自身的激情,故事无疾而终且无从追索,而书写至少保存了灰烬的热度。——摘自笔者日记,二○○九年六月六日 Love has taken place and now has passed away, just as the dawn suddenly arrived, the night had to fade silently, and if the flame gradually extinguished, burned fingers still pain. Is this this aftertaste, smoky smoked around in the dry one after another dry days, but also how to doubt its authenticity? So determined only because they can not deny their own passion, the story without the end and no recourse, and writing to save at least The heat of the ashes. - From the author diary, June 6, 2009