质朴的芳香是泥土的,曼妙的身姿是稻花的,安详的守望是老树的,拥有它们的世界是美的,但也有人不愿想起的美,那是温润中的凄凉。每次回老家,总免不了访亲,总免不了推开那扇门。其实里面是空的,几年没住人了。可每次我都会下意识地推开它,听那门吱呀吱呀响,我没进去,只站在那儿,回味指尖的潮湿 Rustic aroma is earthy, graceful posture is rice flower, the serene watch is the old tree, the world that owns them is beautiful, but some people do not want to think of the United States, it is warm and desolate. Every time I return home, the total inevitably visit the pro, the inevitable push that door. In fact, it is empty, no people lived for years. Every time I will subconsciously push it open, listen to the door squeaks, ah, I did not go in, just stood there, aftertaste of the wet fingertips