幽深和曲折,在巷道中延伸。那日,下着小雨,绵绵如丝线的雨帘在眼前迷蒙,从白墙黑瓦的古宅倾斜,匍匐在青石巷道。瞬间,青石的颜色加深,又微微发亮,石纹在积蓄的雨水中呈现。它有山峦的隐约背影,它有被说不清的惆怅遮盖的款曲,在肉眼中凸显遥远天际的散漫弧线。旅游鞋踏在青石板上,也很轻,仿佛一次轻柔的触摸。那一刻,我想起蜻蜓点水,想起一块泡沫浮游于汤汤水流。我没有撑伞。伞就在我手中,我以为没 Deep and winding, extending in the roadway. That day, under the light of rain, rain curtains such as silk in front of the blind, sloping from the white walls and black tiles of the old house, prostrate in the bluestone roadway. Moment, bluestone color deepened, and slightly shining, stone pattern in the accumulation of rain show. It has a vague silhouette of the mountains, it has been covered in indescribable melancholy songs, highlights the distant sky in the naked eye of the scattered arc. Traveling shoes on the bluestone, is also very light, as if a gentle touch. At that moment, I think of a superficial touch of water, think of a bubble floating in soup soup water. I do not have umbrella. Umbrella is in my hands, I thought no