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一个从哺乳时期就远离故乡的人,正如最白的那朵云与天空离散了。小时候漂泊在外地,时常为没有故乡而伤心。成年之后,终于回到故乡,忽然发现故乡比自己更漂泊。因此,漂泊是我的生活中,最纠结的神经,最生涩的血液,最无解的思绪,最沉静的呼唤。说到底,就是任凭长风吹旷野,短雨洗芭蕉,空有万分想念,千般记惦,百倍牵肠挂肚,依然无根可寻和无情可系。在母亲怀里长大的孩子,总是记得母乳的温暖。在母亲怀里长大的孩子,又总是记不得母乳的模样。
A man who has been away from his hometown since breastfeeding, just as the whitest cloud is separated from the sky. Adolescent drifting in the field, often not hometown and sad. As adults, and finally returned home, he suddenly found his home more adrift than himself. Therefore, wandering is my life, the most entangled nerves, the most jerky blood, the most thoughts of no solution, the most quiet call. After all, that is, despite the long wind blowing in the wilderness, a short rain wash banana, there is a long absence, miss thousands of miles, a hundred times worried about, still rootless and ruthless. Children who grow up in the mother’s arms, always remember the warmth of breast milk. The child who grew up in the mother’s arms, and always can not remember the appearance of breast milk.