偶然,翻开那本淡蓝色的日记本,勾起了我本已尘封的记忆。一年前风铃还是一个不懂世事的女孩儿,是那种极单纯的女孩儿,风铃最喜欢做的事情就是一个人静静地呆在家里看书,听抒情而缓慢的音乐或是想一些虚无缥缈的事情,那些梦经常会超越现实,幻化出美丽的风景围绕在风铃的身边,风铃就像一棵小树顽固地按照自己的规律成长。 By chance, the pale blue diary was opened, which reminded me of my own dusty memory. A year ago, wind chimes was a girl who had no understanding of the world. She was an extremely pure girl. The most liked thing for wind chimes was a person quietly reading at home, listening to lyrical and slow music or thinking about something imaginary. Things, those dreams often transcend reality, illusion of beautiful scenery around the wind chimes, wind chimes like a tree obstinately grow in accordance with their own laws.