冬日城市的夜晚,一切似乎都那么自由:每个独特的灵魂,隐藏在黑暗中的高楼,流浪的猫狗。我走出刚刚熄灯的图书馆,从包里拿出厚重的外套,把拉链拉到脖颈。极其寒凉的飒风,依旧不住地嗖嗖往里灌。怀抱着臃肿的书包,我瑟瑟地发出小幅度的颤抖,一步一步地走向公交车站。白日里无尽喧嚣的街道,此时好像睡着了一样。除了闪烁不定的路灯,剩下的就是我和我的影子。汹涌 Everything seems to be so free at night in the winter city: every unique soul, tall building hidden in the darkness, wandering cats and dogs. I walked out of the library I had just turned out, took a thick coat from my bag and pulled the zipper around my neck. Sa wind extremely cold, still could not live to wind in irrigation. Embraced with a bloated bag, I shrill slightly shivering, step by step toward the bus station. The endless noise of the streets during the day seems like asleep. In addition to flashing lights, the rest is my shadow and me. turbulent