漫天、湿冷的雨,如藕丝般缠绵,让人难以挣脱。十年前,我曾在旷野中无遮无掩地被这种雨笼罩,怎么也无法冲出它编织的网。正当沮丧之极时,瞟见远方缥缈着一座房屋的影子。我疾行到它的跟前,却是一座沧桑毕现的廊桥。歇下来,听着桥下溪水的流响,对廊桥油然而生感激之情。雨住,重新踏上泥泞小道,回眸为我隔绝烟雨的廊桥的那一刻,我把它烙 Mantian, wet and cold rain, such as lotus root lingering, hard to get rid of. Ten years ago I was shrouded in the wilderness without any cover-up and could not get out of the net it weaves. In the midst of frustration, he saw the shadow of a house in the distance. I swam to it, but it is a corridor bridge. Rest, listen to the flow of water under the bridge, the gallery was born with a sense of gratitude. Rain live, re-set foot on the muddy path, looking back for my isolation of Amoy bridge at the moment, I brand it