写作,不过是捕捉一个逃跑的自我。不管你的一生多么精彩,而最终记住的仍旧稀疏,而且只是个抽象、大概。生活从来只打个照面,就匆匆作别,一去不返。这看来像拍了个写真集,以为什么都已留下,其实只是个幻影,省却了更多的细节。往昔带着许多隐秘在逃离,而我,开始艰难而甜蜜地追逐。很早很早以前,我的家里很穷,一条渔船算得上是全部资产。在沅江的一条支流沧水的见证下,我降生在这条船上。满世界就是水,除了无聊便是遐想,那些畅游的鱼儿带着我的痴梦。七岁时上了岸,鸡, Writing, but is to capture a runaway self. No matter how wonderful your life, and eventually remember the still sparse, but only an abstract, probably. Life has always been a face-lift, they hurriedly say goodbye to nothing. It seems like a photo album was taken, why they have been left, in fact, just a phantom, save more details. In the past with many hidden in the escape, and I, began hard and sweet chase. Very early in the morning, my family was poor and a fishing boat was the full asset. Witnessed by Cangshui, a tributary of Yuanjiang, I was born on this boat. The world is full of water, in addition to boring is reverie, those swim fish with my dreams. Seven years old on the shore, chicken,