时光似乎从我能够毫不含糊地说出每年的年份时起就变得快了。时光荏苒、岁月如梭之类的话也不知道说了几遍。而时间它本人好像永远都是那么淡定,不紧不慢地用一件件琐事感动你,磨化你,打击你,再鼓励你。当在偷来的“浮生半日闲”里偶然回首,才发现那一件件小事组成的也不过就是所谓的生活了。吃年夜饭前,我和爷爷跺着脚,在冷风里等待迟来的亲戚。不过五六点钟的光景,天却早已黑透了。远处有一两朵红红绿绿的烟花在夜幕上绽开。老人和孙子的谈话,不外乎就是那些内容,我听 Time seems to be getting faster from when I can speak out of the year of the year unequivocally. Time flies, flies like the years do not know to say that several times. The time itself seems to always be so calm, unhurried touching you with one piece of trivia, grinding you, blow you, and encourage you. When I stumbled back in the stolen “Half a Day”, I realized that it was nothing but the so-called life. Before eating dinner, my grandfather and my feet, waiting in the cold belated relatives. However, the scene of five or six o’clock, the sky has long been dark thoroughly. There are one or two red, green and green fireworks in the distance. The conversation between the elderly and grandchildren is nothing more than the content, I listen