我常常会想起小镇上那个女孩。冬天的早晨,朋友领着她叩响我的房门,说,看,我给你带来一个小朋友,她很喜欢读你写的文章呢。她羞红着脸,抖落一身的雪花。一个上中学的女孩,正是落花成梦的年龄,钟爱三毛的每一本书,梦想着将来可以到远方去流浪,甚至,在沙漠中造一座属于自己的小木屋。 I often think of that girl in town. Winter morning, a friend led her ringing my door, saying, look, I bring you a kid, she likes to read your article. She blush, shake off the snowflakes. A middle school girl, it is the age of falling into dreams, love each of San Mao’s book, dreams of going to the far future to wander, and even, in the desert to create their own cabin.