是几年前的事啦。那一年我意气风发,遐思万千,写了无数的风花雪月的爱情文字。 一段时间里,我固执地以为生活中的爱情可以如同我笔下的文字一般鲜活、芬芳。 深秋里的一天,我去贾平凹的故乡商州探访一个文友。聊得正起劲的时候,文友冷不丁抛给我一句话:你文章里写的那些,是童话不是爱情。我顿觉惘然。 It was a few years ago. That year I was high-spirited, thousands of reveries, wrote countless romantic love text. For some time, I stubbornly thought that love in life can be as vivid and fragrant as my writing. One day in the late autumn, I went to Jiapingwa’s hometown of Shangzhou to visit a friend. When talking is energetic, amateur throw me a word: those written in your article, the fairy tale is not love. I suddenly feel suddenly.