我喜欢风。风自由而空灵,我们可以和它撞个满怀,却不能叫停它匆忙的脚步,无法挽留它潇洒的背影。风在江南,吹绿两岸,让你遭遇吐青的杨柳;风在塞北,拨开野草,让你惊见大漠的牛羊……曾翻阅汉高祖的白云的,曾翻阅陆放翁的大散关的,也曾翻阅你满额的青发的,就是那像歌又像笛的风。我突然觉得:他,就像风一样。想起他,这样的画面便在脑海中出现:着一袭风衣,走在簌簌的风里,风鼓起风衣的大翻领,吹起风衣的下摆,刷刷地打着他的腿。抬头四顾, I like the wind. Free and ethereal wind, we can hit it with a full, but can not stop it in a hurry, unable to retain its chic back. Wind in the south, blowing green both sides, so that you encounter vomit willow; wind in Saibei, aside the wild grass, let you see the desert cattle and sheep ... ... have read the Han emperor’s white clouds, , Have also read your full amount of green hair, that is, like the song and flute wind. I suddenly felt: He, like the wind. Think of him, this picture will appear in my mind: dressed in windbreaker, walking in the staggering wind, the wind swept the windbreaker lapel, blowing windbreaker hem, brushing his legs. Looked up,