那时,未来风轻云淡得看不清模样,整个夏天像—场循环往复的梦境,惊鸿一瞥的单车少年凝固在世界中央。记忆里,那个夏天总是这样。晴日干燥又热烈的风浸润着花的芬芳,泡桐树下淡淡洒落细碎的日光,心头小鹿乱撞。风铃敲着玻璃窗,树叶哗哗作响,骑着单车驶过的少年,美好得如同梦一样。我静静站在时光的转角,遥望少年的白衬衣在风中飞 At that time, the future was light and clear and could not be seen clearly. The whole summer was like a cyclical reciprocating dream, with a glimpse of the cycling youth solidified in the middle of the world. In memory, that summer is always the case. Sunny dry and warm wind soaked with the fragrance of flowers, paulownia sprinkle lightly broken daylight, my deer chaos. Wind chimes knock on the windows, the leaves rushing, riding a bicycle passing juvenile, beautiful as a dream. I quietly stand in the corner of time, looking teenager white shirt fly in the wind