是否每个人都有一段回忆,总是沉溺于过往;是否每个人都曾面对着一个路口,惶惶然不知方向。挣扎不再,信念依然,这风里来雨里去的征程,我铭记着用双臂撑起的忧伤和坚定的选择。选好就出发,从此不再迷惘。一直有个作家梦,如同张爱玲笔下的“天才梦”。渴望如文人墨客,看尽春华秋实,斜倚栏杆满眼离愁别绪,渴望有一天能够站在世界的舞台,挥笔写下的文字被世人景仰。但梦想像雪花,飘飘荡荡,看似握在手中,却早已融化。 Does everyone have a memory, always addicted to the past; whether everyone has faced a junction, panic unknown direction. Struggling no longer, faith still, the journey in the wind and rain, I bear in mind the sad and firm choice with both arms propped up. Picked on the departure, from no longer lost. There has been a writer’s dream, like Zhang Ailing’s “genius dream.” Desire such as the literati, view Chunhua Qiu Shi, reclining railings full of worries do not worry, eager to one day be able to stand on the stage of the world, the text written by the pen was admired by the world. But dreams like snowflakes, fluttering, seemingly in my hand, have long since melted.