冬日的黄昏,闲坐窗前,手里捧着一本名为《从你的全世界路过》的书,看着书里所写的故事,是否我们也曾想过,我们即将散场的青春里,谁曾为谁歌唱,谁改变了谁的梦想,谁把谁好好珍藏,谁又曾把你写的信撕碎了散在风里转身离场,留下一段没有旁白的电影,看得懂的人说那是青春的记忆,看不懂的人说那只是过往中的插曲,也许我们都忘了在过往中收藏,那点滴而又支离破碎的信仰。回头看看那已泛黄的青春,就如同那多年后的老照片,有些熟悉,却又记不太清,不用追忆 At dusk in the winter, sit in front of the window with a book titled “Passing Through Your World” and look at the story written in the book. Have we ever thought about the youth we are about to leave? , Who has sung for whom, who changed who dreams, who kept them well, who once again crushed the letter you wrote, turned away from the wind, left an unnumbered movie for comprehension People say it is the memory of youth, who do not understand that it is just an episode in the past, maybe we all forgotten in the past collection, and that bit by bit and fragmented faith. Look back at the already yellowed youth, just as many years old photos, some familiar, but not too clear, do not recall