一初冬的早晨有些冷。清晨的太阳远远地守在地平线上,融化初雪,在地面上投射出淡黄色的反光。阳光仍旧是微弱的,划过凛冽的空气,像一柄未经开刃的宝剑,歪歪扭扭地沿着某条预设的路线,最后总算是到达了山峦的地面。马赛在被窝里,蜷成一团,却感受到了这种奇怪的感觉。几天的时间里,他所居住的山脉逐渐被寒冷所笼罩了。虽说风雪只是徐徐而来,甚至可以说带着某 A cold early winter morning. The early morning sun is far behind the horizon, melting the snow and projecting a light yellow reflection on the ground. The sun is still faint, across the cold air, like a sword without blade, crooked along a predetermined route, and finally finally reached the ground of the mountains. Marseille in the blanket, curled up, but felt this strange feeling. In a few days, the mountain range in which he lived was gradually shrouded in coldness. Although the snow is only slowly, it can even be said with a