天空阴沉沉的,像是哪个文人墨士不小心打翻了墨汁,洒到湿了水的宣纸上。云层背后的光线拼命地挣扎,却也脱不去层层的禁锢。瑟瑟的风吹着,偶尔卷起两片凋零的枯叶,落到冰冷的水泥地。不小心踩到了积水,溅起的水花又无力地滴落,只有几滴附上了裤口,却没来由地一阵冰凉。我的头深深地低着,目光紧紧盯着足尖,在眼神深处,却是无尽的失落与挫败,像个丢了糖的小 The gloomy sky, like the scribe who inadvertently knocked over the ink, sprinkled on the wet rice paper. The light behind the clouds struggles desperately, but also can not take off the layers of imprisonment. Ailing winds, and occasionally rolled up two withered dead leaves, fell to the cold concrete. Accidentally stepped on the water, splashed splash and unable to drip, only a few drops attached to the Kukou, but did not come to burst while cold. My head is deeply lowered, eyes fixed on the tiptoe, in the eyes of the depths, it is endless loss and frustration, like a lost little sugar