执笔在微微泛黄的纸张上书写,记录在人间的点滴。思绪在飘扬的年代里,清晰地诉说死亡。我一直觉得逝去的人是幸福的,他们不用面临寒冷所带来的窘迫和饥饿所带来的恐慌,亲人离世所带来的悲痛和人情冷暖给予的残酷。他们只要静静的,或快乐或淡漠地看着,旁观死亡后的一切,这一切的一切。我总是这么无知地幻想着,却从来都只幻想着。 Writing pen slightly yellowed paper records in the world bit by bit. Thinking in the era of flying, clearly tell death. I have always felt that those who have died are happy. They do not have to face the panic brought by the cold and the hunger brought about by the cold, the grief of the death of their loved ones and the cruelty given to the warmth of human beings. As long as they are quiet, or happy or indifferent to watch, after watching all the death, all of this. I always imagine so ignorant, but never imagined.