微风轻轻拂开了梦的缥缈,那一条小小的巷子又一次浮现在眼前,空气中氤氲着岁月陈旧的味道。红的瓦,黑的砖,翠色的藤条悄然蔓上了夕阳的一角,残留的温暖载着精灵般小小的尘埃,恍若那手巧的纺织娘,在青石板上勾勒出妖艳的花。血色的天空下,那个苍老的身影仍立在街角处,像是从旧画中走出来的人儿,执着地,翘首望着远方…… Breeze gently flicked the dream 缥 缈, that a small alley once again emerge in front of the air 氤 氲 years old taste. Red tiles, black bricks, Cuise rattan quietly spread on the corner of the sunset, the residual warm carrying Elves little dust, reminding us of scenes that clever textile mother, sketching out on the bluestone flirtatious flowers. Scarlet sky, the old figure is still standing in the corner, like walking out of the old paintings of children, persistent, eagerly looking at the distance ... ...