有的生命,即使被岁月剥落腐蚀,也永远不会老去。北方的初春。潮湿,微凉。这样安静的凌晨,连收音机主持人的声音都开始渐渐染上睡意。耳塞里传出的似乎是节目的最后一首歌,音律非常熟悉。放空的大脑却记不起这首歌,裹着被子静静地听,不知不觉睡着,梦中萧萧落叶,雨过夜塘秋水声。清晨醒来,早晨看窗台上的盆栽植物的颜色又碧绿了很多,叶子在微风的吹拂下微微颤动,颜色厚重得似乎可以滴下粘稠的液体。 Some life will never grow old even if it is peeled off by years. Early spring in the north. Humid, cool. Such a quiet morning, even the radio host’s voice began to gradually drowse. Appeared in the earplugs seems to be the last song of the show, the sound is very familiar. Empty the brain can not remember this song, wrapped in quilts quietly listening, unknowingly fall asleep, dreams Xiao Xiao deciduous, rain overnight pond autumn sound. Waking up in the morning, the color of the potted plant on the window ledge was green in the morning. The leaves fluttered slightly in the breeze and the thick color seemed to drip down the viscous liquid.