第一次坐飞机是在你肩上。一九九几年那些夏天,每当我遇上被蝉鸣惊扰的夜晚,都会伸手戳你的肚脐,而你会用满是胡茬的下巴蹭我的脸,眼里的困意染上了窗外温柔的月光。一九九几年的月光,不仅洒进了你的眼里,还洒满了那个很小很小的阳台,我在你肩上闭着眼,想象我长出了翅膀。那时候觉得你是全世界最高的人,坐在你肩上可以看见最远最远的山和最广阔的海洋。所以你是我的风向。一九九几年的早餐,你喜欢 The first flight is on your shoulder. In the summer of 1999, whenever I met a night disturbed by the cicadas, I poked your navel and you rubbed my face with a stubbley chin. My eyes were drowsy. Gentle moonlight outside the window. The moonlight of the past ninety years not only spilled into your eyes, but also covered the small and small balcony. I closed my eyes on your shoulders and imagined that I had grown my wings. At that time think you are the tallest person in the world, sitting on your shoulders can see the furthest furthest mountains and the widest oceans. So you are my style. Nineteen years of breakfast, you like it