重返小镇,返回那被世间遗忘的角落,安详静谧得像一场易碎的梦。乌衣巷深,青砖黑瓦,在这个与世隔绝的地方,我迎来了第一场雨。下雨的那一刻,似乎有什么东西苏醒了。雨脚细密绵软,像老人手中人八不停歇的针线在布料中温和连接一般。不似北方的豪爽痛快,小镇的雨,有一种低回婉转的美,像极了南方人柔美的性格。雨不大,打在身上,得到的不过是布料轻微的声响。然后,蔓延开去,晕成了好一幅山水泼墨画,处处透着中国古典的韵味,却不似那死脑筋的书生满身的陈旧味。古朴的小镇,在 Return to the town, return to the forgotten corner of the world, tranquil and peaceful like a fragile dream. Wuyi Lane deep, dark brick black tiles, in this secluded place, I ushered in the first rain. The moment it rains, it seems something awakens. Rainy feet soft and delicate, like the hands of the elderly non-stop sewing in the fabric moderate connection in general. Not like the northern bold, happy town, there is a low back mildly beautiful, like most of the southerners soft personality. The rain is not big, hitting the body, but the fabric is a slight noise. Then spread to go, became a good halo ink painting landscapes, everywhere reveals the charm of classical China, but not like the brain-dead scholar covered with the old flavor. Quaint town, at