今年中秋的月光,我是没有仔细看的。没有刘文典月下摆桌大讲《月赋》的时代,只是一如既往的狂欢。高墙外,月光被阻隔,岁月被阻隔,心灵被阻隔。在霓虹下,在吠声中,我逃也似的溜出。夜色如此,仿佛大雾弥漫,仿佛流光漫天。子在川上曰:逝者如斯夫,不舍昼夜。迷蒙间又是曾点的沂水春风,仿佛时光不曾流逝,被遗落在回忆的鸿沟。当岁月被物质收买,消逝过去的,而今已被潮水冲淡。彷徨间又似看到那样的山林,那样的牌坊,那样的江南女子,又似看见十年前的周庄,听闻古典的声声呻吟……身在何处,又将归去何方? The moonlight of the Mid-Autumn Festival this year, I did not look carefully. There is no time for Liu Wendian to lay out the table to talk about “The Moon”. It is only the usual carnival. Outside the high walls, the moonlight is blocked, the years are blocked, and the heart is blocked. Under the neon, in the buzzing sound, I fled like it escaped. The night is like this, as if the fog is filled with it, as if the sky is full of light. The son is in Chuan Shangyu: The deceased is such a husband, he does not care to stay up late. The misty scene is once again a bit of a breeze, as if time has never passed and was left behind in the memory chasm. When the years were materially bought and passed away, it has now been diluted by the tide. At the same time, you can see such a mountain forest. Such a archway, such a woman in the south of the Yangtze River, looks like Zhouzhuang ten years ago. Heard the classical voices. Where are you and where will you return?