乡村的夜,乡村独坐山梁的孤寂把你的软弱之根赤裸裸地凸现出来,你生存,便适应,你适应,便冷漠,直至残酷的现实成为你生命的一种组成。与生俱来的悲剧,与城市无关,也与乡村无关。悲剧的源起,犹如一枚果实的内核,无论麻辣或苦涩,终归与果实生长的山坡或院落无关。时间像一枚硕大的太阳,光线一瓣瓣地凋零,它却依然那样庞大,那样遥无尽头。果实一日日饱满,一日日占有自己的风 The night of the country, the loneliness of the country alone, the solitude of the mountain, the naked roots of your weakness, you survive, adapt, adapt, and indifference until cruel reality becomes a constituent of your life. Born tragedy, has nothing to do with the city, but also has nothing to do with the countryside. The origin of the tragedy, like the core of a fruit, whether spicy or bitter, has nothing to do with the hillsides or courtyards where fruit grows. Time is like a gigantic sun, the light of a petal dying, but it is still so huge, so endless. The fruit is full day by day, possessing one’s own style every day