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二十世纪七十年代是个分水岭,一边是困惑,一边是茫然。介于六十年代的保守与八十年代的张扬之间,也许寂寞,也许恬淡。那仍带着惨痛的苍白青春至今不曾宣泄,安稳的生活偶尔涌显几分惆怅,每一分都是负荷。曾经的厚重与未来的前卫似乎都与己无关,亦如黑白间的灰,七十年代悄然地过渡着。也许并不纯粹,甚至被称为中庸,却依然有着别具一格的风采和内涵。
The seventies of the twentieth century is a watershed, one side is confused, the other side is dazed. Between the conservatives of the 1960s and the publicity of the 1980s, perhaps lonely and perhaps tranquil. It still carries a painful pale youth has not vent, a steady life occasionally surging a bit melancholy, every minute is a load. It seems that both the heavy weight and the avant-garde of the future have nothing to do with them. They are also as black as white as the quiet transition in the seventies. Perhaps not pure, or even called the golden mean, but still has a unique style and content.