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我的肺不行了,呼气比进气容易。那只老蚊子临终前说,这是生命即将终结的先兆。我必须说点什么,只是我抓不住思绪。我无法像其它蚊子那样,一代一代地把遗言传递,这空旷的夜里,只剩下我一只蚊子。我停在深红色的幔帏里,双翅无力地耷拉着。空气刺骨地冷,寒意从我细长的脚底蔓延上来,麻木了我的身体,尚剩心口一丝暖气。我知道我过不完这个其实不太冷的冬天了。明年迎春花喧哗的嫩黄中,只有我孤寂的灵魂在飞舞,一如我现在的孤寂。那只白皙的手臂就在几米之外,我不想去。当雷蓓卡坐在摇椅上吮指头,两只眼珠像黑夜中的猫
My lungs die, exhalation is easier than air intake. The old mosquito said before his death that this is a harbinger of the end of life. I have to say something, but I can not catch my mind. I can not pass on my passions from generation to generation, as other mosquitoes do, leaving me with only one mosquito in the open night. I stopped in the crimson mantle, the wings dragged weakly. Cold air, chill spread from my slender soles, numb my body, still a trace of heart warmth. I know I can not finish this in fact not too cold winter. Next spring flowers noisy yellow, only my lonely soul flying, as I am now lonely. The fair arm is a few meters away, I do not want to go. When Ree Beijia sat on a rocking chair sucking her finger, two eyes like a cat in the dark