在我的少年时代,曾有过一段在外地求学的经历。那个地方离家并不远,骑上自行车,两个小时就可以赶回,但相对于学业来说,这两个小时尤其稀缺。每半个月才有一次回家的机会,而且还是在一天的课程结束之后,通常,我努力按捺着兴奋之情起程的时候,已经是黄昏了。所以,一个少年,一辆单车,一条把离愁渐渐缩短的路,所有这些共同构成的奔波,总是以一种落寂而又温暖的形象,一度泯灭在我的成长历程中。被衬衫梳理过的晚风,被车轮碾碎了的月光,也成为驻守在我脑海中珍贵记忆的一帧。那两个小时,跟半个月难耐的时光比起来,短暂得可怕,但因为被我注入了期待,它变得鲜活 In my youth, there was a period of studying abroad. That place is not far from home, riding a bike, two hours to get back, but relative to the academic, these two hours are especially scarce. Every half a month there is a chance to go home, and it is still after the end of the day’s class, usually when I try to restrain my excitement it is dusk. Therefore, a juvenile, a bicycle, a way to gradually diminish the sorrow, all of these common running, always with a lonely and warm image, once perished in my growth process. The breeze combed by the shirt, the moonlight crushed by the wheels, also became a frame of precious memories stationed in my head. The two hours were horribly short compared with half a month, but it became fresh because I was anticipating