阿虹,我又在我们相守过的日子中薰得发黄的指间升起的袅袅烟尘中看见六年前的你了。依然是一袭白衣裙,比我眼前的烟尘要白,是我们校园高耸的灌木上空飘过的白云那种白,令我想起我故乡春天的水边踟躇的白鹭,透明、纯净而轻盈。然而你是个来自城市的女生。那时候我们一同在鹭江边那座古老的师范校园读书。真巧,你的教室在我的教室前面,而你 Ahong, I saw you six years ago in the curl of smoke rising from the yellowed fingers in the days we spent. Still wearing a white dress, more white than the smoke in front of me, is the kind of white cloud that floats over the towering shrubbery of my campus, reminds me of the white-faced Egret at the spring waters of my hometown, transparent, pure and light. However you are a girl from the city. At that time, we studied together at the ancient normal school in Lujiang. Really, your classroom is in front of my classroom, and you