论文部分内容阅读
一记得那是十六年前的一个炎炎夏日,我踩着噪热的蝉鸣,顶着酷暑,到临海市文化馆找一个熟人谈点事。我要找的人失约了,而我却有幸结识了一位青年书法家朱晓峰。准确地说,当时的朱晓峰还不能称为书法家,只能称之为书法爱好者。当时见面的情景,至今仍凸现脑海,历历在目。在那个酷热的午后,我推开了一扇虚掩着的木门,看到的却是这样一个情景:一个血气方刚,剃着平头,看上去才二十出头的壮实小伙子正赤膊伏案奋发疾书,他的额头及背部淌着晶莹的汗珠,腰际的西装短裤也被汗水浸湿慢慢洇开,颜色由浅变深。我屏息站在门口,凝眸许久。他也沉浸在自己的笔墨世界,丝毫不为别的所扰。他在忘我地挥毫、挥
I remember it was a hot summer 16 years ago, I stepping on the noisy cicadas, withstand the heat, to the Linhai City Cultural Center to find an acquaintance to talk about something. I am looking for people who have lost a contract, but I have the honor to get acquainted with a young calligrapher Zhu Xiaofeng. To be exact, at that time, Zhu Xiaofeng could not be called a calligrapher and could only be called a calligrapher. The scenes of the meeting at that time still vividly appeared in my mind. In that hot afternoon, I pushed open a vaulted wooden door, saw it is such a scene: a fierce square, shaved flat head, it seems that only the twenties of the mighty young man is working hard case courage, His forehead and back dripping crystal sweat, waist suit shorts are sweat soaked slowly open, the color from light to dark. I hold your breath at the door, gazing for a long time. He is also immersed in his own writing world, in no way disturbed by anything else. He flirted and waved