曾经这个城市,弄堂是她纤细却又坚韧的脉络,剪不断,理还乱,纵横交错成一个复杂的生命。而我,就是在她的血脉中汲取着滋润长大的孩子。记得小时候无数次,在狭窄逼仄的弄堂里仰望天际,两边斑驳高大的墙向上攀去,那方深深的蓝色天空,漂浮着的白云只看得见一角,但却就此成为我心目中一枚最深邃的风景。晴朗的时候,阳光只能照到一面墙,另一面躲藏在背光的阴暗处,它壁隙的褶皱里,埋葬着怎样的过往?我喜欢默默地注视着它沧桑的纹路,试图探询这永恒的秘密。我也曾将手指在上面摩挲,感觉它粗砺异常的皮肤,但它又会窸窸窣窣地落下很多沙砾,仿佛异样的脆弱。偶尔有尖锐细小的石头,刺得指尖微微 Once the city, alley is her delicate yet tough line, cut constantly, chaos, criss-cross into a complex life. And I, that is, in her blood to learn to grow up moist children. I remember countless times as a child, in the narrow cramped alley look up at the sky, the mottled walls on both sides climbed up, that side of the deep blue sky, the floating clouds only see a corner, but it became my heart a The most profound scenery. Sunny time, the sun can only shine on the wall, the other side hiding in the shadows of the backlight, its folds in the wall, buried what kind of past? I like silently watching its vicissitudes of the lines, trying to explore this eternal secret. I have also rubbed my finger on it and felt it rough abnormal skin, but it would again fall a lot of gravel, as if the same fragile. Occasionally sharp small stone, piercing the fingertips slightly