我还是第一次在文章中使用“写作命运”这个词。在北京的城市空间里,我偶尔会想起乡下院子里父亲和三舅亲手打造的那架松木梯子——粗糙、结实、沉重。它如今更多的时候是被闲置在一个角落,只有偶尔修房补墙的时候才能派上用场。显然这架有着淡淡松木香味的梯子成了我的精神象征。在一个精神能见度降低的钢铁水泥城市空间,我需要它把我抬高到一个位置——看清自己 For the first time, I use the word “writing destiny” in my article. In the urban space of Beijing, I occasionally think of the pine ladder built by my father and the third kin in her own yard - rough, strong and heavy. It is now more often idle in a corner, only occasionally repair the wall when it comes in handy. Obviously this ladder with a touch of pine fragrance has become my spiritual symbol. In a steel-cement city space with reduced mental visibility, I needed it to raise me to a position - to see myself