记忆中总有一幅画面:妈妈牵着我的手,行走在冬日皎洁的月光下,匆匆迎向或背离一部电影。在拥挤的人潮里,我和妈妈心急地等候一张小小的长方形票据。那些高矮不等、胖瘦参差的人紧密地聚拢在一起,汇成一条长长的小溪。我像一片单薄的叶子,在溪流里不能掌控自己,摇来荡去。妈妈抱紧我,在嘈杂中走进那片灯光深处。我们一排一排地摸索过去,有人不耐烦地收回翘起的腿,继续口吐莲花,那些白花花的瓜子壳便在空中上下翻飞。那时,所有的片子前面都要加上一两段无关的 There is always a picture in memory: Mother holding my hand, walking in the winter moonlight, hurried to meet or depart from a movie. In crowded circles, my mom and I anxiously await a small rectangular bill. Those ranging in height, fat and thin people closely together, together into a long stream. I like a thin leaf, in the stream can not control myself, shaking away. Mom hugged me and walked into the light in noisy. We groping in rows and rows, someone impatiently recovered cocked legs, continue to vomit lotus, those white flower melon shell up and down in the air. At that time, all the films must be added in front of one or two unrelated