从小生长在城市,我与乡村没有切肤之缘。在我想象的碎片里,乡村是麦浪滚滚的田园,是炊烟袅袅的土屋,是鸡鸣犬吠的天籁,是父辈们出生和劳作的摇篮。在我看来,人们怀念故乡,慕恋乡村,更多的是出于对童年时光的怀想和祭奠,对生命中失落的珍贵片段的追溯。自从随父辈来到城里,乡村对我来说成了一个遥远的遐想,一个醉心的诱惑,一个水墨画般的梦幻。在城市生活的日子,我穿行于高楼林立的大厦,远离乡村,远离旷野,不谙农时,间或也会闹出 Growing up in the city, I have no affinity with the country. In the fragments I imagine, the village is a wheat-rolling countryside, a curling house of smoke and smoke, the sound of barking barks, and the birthplace and work-cradle of fathers. In my opinion, people miss their hometown and their village. Much of it is traced back to the lost dreams and sacrifices of childhood and the lost precious fragments in life. Since I came to town with my parents, the village has become a distant reverie, an enticing temptation, an ink painting dream. In the days of city life, I walked through high-rise buildings, away from the countryside, away from the wilderness, do not know farming, during or will be sudden