有些路是温暖的河流有人说,时常陷入回忆不是老了,就是在赶往老去的路上。也许,我是奔忙在路上的一只蝼蚁,缓慢地穿行过错落的楼群、密闭的花园或者淳美的村庄,然后停下来抚一抚触角,回身望去,已是一片泱然天地。有时的我就是一只蝼蚁的状态,走得远了,就翻开那本叫回忆的书,顺着一条狭窄却充盈着泥 Some roads are warm rivers Some people say that memories are often not old, that is, in the rush to the old way. Perhaps I was a termites bustling down the road slowly through the scattered buildings, enclosed gardens or Chun-mei villages, and then stopped to touch the tentacles and looked back. It was a paradise. Sometimes I was a state of ants, go far, open the book called memories, along a narrow but filled with mud