曾经有很长一段时间,“乡土”、“家园”这些诗意的字眼,对于我是隔膜的。我认定那是一种泥性的衍生物,混合着水牛的鼻息和青草的甜香。她自然、天籁,有着伸向大地的根须和亲近天空的触角。我常常悲哀地想,我们这些城市里长大的孩子,还有没有真正的故乡呢? For a long time, the poetic words “native land” and “homeland” were diaphragmatic to me. I think it’s a muddy derivative that mixes the buffalo’s nose and the grass’s sweetness. Her nature, sounds of nature, has reached the ground of the roots and tentacles close to the sky. I often sad to think that we grew up in these cities children, there is no real home?