那是十二月的冬季,我走出屋子,楼边的灌木丛林里结满了厚冰块,风刀子般穿行在每一个细缝里。天空昏暗低沉,门口的水泥过道泛着一层生冷的灰。我缓下脚步,紧了紧暗褐色的毛线衣领。图书馆在河岸那边隐隐约约,它可怜兮兮地夹在钟楼和后山中间,像一只即将被主人抛弃的宠物犬。不一会儿,天上下起了米粒雪,漫天飞舞。我踩在小木桥上,雪粒滑过我的发梢、袖口,轻触我的脚尖。它落进湖里,波澜不惊,无声无息。我想象这场雪,此时也落 It was the winter of December. As I walked out of the room, the thicket of ice in the jungle of the building was filled with wind knifes and weaved through every slit. Dim dark sky, the door of the cement aisle glowing a layer of cold gray. I slowed and tightened my dark brown collar. Lying about the bank of the river, the library was pitifully clipped between the clock tower and the back of the mountain, like a pet dog about to be abandoned by the owner. A moment later, the sky under the rice snow, flying. I stepped on the wooden bridge, snow particles glide over my hair, cuffs, touch my toes. It landed in the lake, placid, silent. I imagine this snow, at this time also fall