阴沉沉的天空，为宋永定 陵铺就了一幅灰色的背 景。凄风细雨粘稠了空间。一下子，好像风从千百年前吹来，雨从千百年前飘落，乌云也从千百年前压下。 脚踩着戚戚荒草负重似地踽踽而行，如同踏着宣纸上一抹湿乎乎的宋代墨迹，于凛冽中丈量着掐头去尾的宋史，心生一种难以名状的 Overcast sky, Song Yongding Lingling shop on a gray background. Cold windy thick space. All of a sudden, it seemed as if the wind had blown thousands of years ago, the rain fell thousands of years ago, and the dark clouds were pushed down thousands of years ago. Feet stepping on the weeds like gravely grief, like marching rice paper on a touch of wet ink of the Song Dynasty, measuring the pinchhead to the tail of the Song Dynasty in the cold, heartless kind of unspeakable