【一】这一年,我实在是写过太多太多的文字,关于你。慢慢的就好像一个声嘶力竭的老妇,支楞着破败的嗓子延伸着那一季早已烟消云散的梦境。昨天猛然间又梦见你,我在马路的这侧,看着你与她牵手而行。那样幸福而满足的笑脸,恍然着又让我想起多年前的那个阳光恍眼的夏季,还是学生的我们,也是如此这般面对着面。你擦过我的身边,然后回过头,淡淡地微笑。我一直都知道,时间历久弥新,再深刻的记忆也终会在某一天的某一个时刻化为尘烟,消失于无形之后就如同从来也没有出现过。也许有人会因此而伤感,但我却是在十年间都祈祷着这样的时刻,会在一个瞬间突然 [A] this year, I really wrote too much text, about you. Slowly like a shouting hoarse old woman, supportive rumbling throat extends that season has long vanished dreams. Yesterday, I suddenly dreamed of you, I was on the side of the road, watching you and her hand in hand. So happy and satisfied smile, suddenly reminded me of the sunshine that many years ago shrouded in the summer, or the students of us, so face to face. You rubbed my side and then turned back and smiled faintly. I have always known that time is new, and deep memories eventually become dusty smoke at some point of the day, disappearing after being invisible, as never before. Maybe some people will be so sad, but I pray for such a moment in ten years, suddenly in an instant