孩童时,那把伞下。望着蒙蒙的雨气,潮湿的微风抚过他的脸颊,带给他丝丝凉意。他忙将脸紧紧地贴上母亲的怀,侧边传来温暖的、轻轻的耳语:“世界很大很大,等你长大了,就到外面的世界去看看,每个地方下雨的样子都不一样哦。”少年时,那把伞下。依旧是那一肩宽的空间,映在眼中的雨,淅淅沥沥,雨气弥漫在远处的空气中,如雾一般将远处的光景半遮半掩起来。远方对他来说,永远是个谜,可望而不可即。那时远方的世界,对他来讲,就是渴望。耳边又传来亲切的声音:“咱们这里太小,你一定要好好努力,走出这里到外面 When the child is under umbrella. Looking at the misty weather, moist breeze stroking his cheek, brought him cool. He was busy with his face firmly attached to the mother’s arms, the side came warm, gently whisper: ”The world is very large, so long as you grow up, go to the outside world to see each The way the place is raining is not the same. “ It is still the space of that shoulder-width, reflected in the eyes of the rain, lingering, rain filled with air in the distance, such as the fog will generally cover the distant half-covered. For him, the distance is always a mystery and hopeless. At that time, the distant world, to him, is longing. Ear came a warm voice: ”We are too small here, you must work hard to get out of here