2008年初春,在一个潮湿的雨天,我悄悄摸进了广河县。早春的雨水冰冷,街边行人寥落。我在入城的桥头独自站立,清缓的河水两岸,山脊巍然。傍晚的河道上,水雾重如蓝烟,漫上桥栏,也漫进了人心。记得分明,那个傍晚我身单衣薄,心里却犹自翻涌着一腔决绝。我迈开腿,下桥入城。身后的浓雾、背负的行装限制了转身甚至回顾。人若活到穷途,逼到末路,唯有辞别方能救渡。生长着三十年记忆的故乡旧城,在一夜之间陌路成他乡。新 Early spring 2008, in a wet rainy day, I quietly touched Guanghe County. Early spring rain icy, pedestrian sparsely on the street. I stand alone in the bridge into the city, the banks of the Qing River, towering ridge. On the evening river, water mist heavy as blue smoke, diffused bridge, but also into the hearts of people. I remember clearly, that evening I was single and thin, but my heart was still surging from the cavity of a decisive. I took my legs and entered the city under the bridge. Behind the dense fog, the burden of carrying restricted or even turned around. If people live to a dead end, forcing the end, only to bid farewell to salvation. Growing hometown of thirty years of memory Old City, a stranger overnight into a home country. new