读着张爱玲的小说,纷乱地牵扯起从来不曾出现在我生命中的记忆,一如南方的小桥流水之中纷至沓来的婉转的黄梅曲调,那些清风细柳斜斜中的杏花微雨以及微雨下翩若惊鸿的美人,只在陌上花开的时节里缓缓归矣。我想有一次远行,能真正在乌衣巷外打着油纸伞让西下的斜阳照拂在身上,坐在乌篷船头把脚伸进水里,让小鱼从它旁边游过。我知道我已经爱上了南方,中国的南方。蕴含诗意的气息:那些江南的水乡小镇,小河两岸青灰色的小房子,一水 Reading Eileen Chang’s novels, chaos involved in never happened in my memory of life, like the small bridges flowing in the South after the melodious Huangmei melodies, those who breeze Slightly oblique slope apricot flowers and micro-micro Pina if the rain under the breathtaking beauty, only in the open season in the streets slowly go. I would like to have a long journey. I could actually put a paper umbrella on the outside of Wuyi Street to let the sun under the sun shine on the body. I sat in the awning pry and put my foot in the water so that the small fish could swim next to it. I know I’ve fallen in love with the South, China’s South. Contains the poetic flavor: those rivers and lakes in the town, small green banks across the river, a water