我是钟爱雪的,可却痛恨着极端的季节。屋外下着雨,却是淅淅沥沥的小雨,像博物馆里的满清时期的裹脚布。都市中成长起来的孩子大概都会这样吧,走多的,忘记的,存在的,改变的,或许心的容量就是那么一点点,失去棱角的便消失不见了,没有痕迹,惊不起半点波澜。 I love snow, but hate the extreme season. It rains outside the house, but it is a light rain, like the footsteps of the museum during the Qing Dynasty. The children who have grown up in the city are probably going to do so. Too many, forgotten, existing, and changed, perhaps the capacity of the mind is a little bit. The loss of edges and corners disappears. There are no traces.