写作本不是我所爱,书看多了,读久了,自然便有一种动笔的渴望。渴望写下那葬花姑娘的情殇,那卖火柴女孩的祈祷,那美人鱼的不朽灵魂……这渴望忽然间又似那夏天的河水,鼓胀起来,无穷的故事便幻化成涓涓的细流,流到笔下,在田字格中汇成一片汪洋。细细思量,咦,写作,竟这等酣畅。于? Writing books are not what I love. Books look much. If you read for a long time, you naturally have a longing for writing. Desperate to write down the feelings of the burial girl, the prayers of the girl selling the match, the immortal soul of the mermaid... This longing suddenly seemed like the water of the summer, and it bulged, and the endless story was transformed into a trickle of tricks. Flowed to the pen and merged in a field of words. Meticulously pondered, chanted, and written, this was so smooth. in?