翻检往年的书本,偶尔落下几枚干枯的树叶,银杏叶、枫叶、还有些已叫不出名字的叶子……焦脆的叶片被风干了汁液,难见色彩,却能隐约可见那个淡眉素衣的自己,或爬山涉水,或在校园某个角落惊喜雀跃、惆怅莫名地一路行走,一路拾取落叶。 Flip seized the books of previous years, and occasionally down a few dry leaves, ginkgo leaves, maple leaves, and some have not called the name of the leaves ... ... crispy leaves were air-dried juice, hard to find color, but can vaguely see that Phoebe Garments themselves, or mountain wading, or in a corner of the campus surprised and cynical, melancholy inexplicably walk all the way, pick the leaves all the way.