天真的冷了,连风也受不了了,半夜三更敲打我的窗户,它们想进来。这种节奏的敲打声我熟悉,这些风一定是从我家乡来的。所有的风都来自北方的野地和村庄,我家在城市的北面。我掀开窗帘,看到风在闪烁不定的霓虹灯里东躲西藏,它们对此十分陌生。风的认识里只有光秃秃的树,野火烧光的草,路边的草堆,孩子们头上的乱发和整个村庄老人的一生。风不认识城市的路,一定是谁告诉了它们我在这里,才会爬到 Naive cold, even the wind can not stand it, hit my window at midnight, they want to come. I’m familiar with this rhythmic beat, and these winds must come from my hometown. All the wind comes from the northern fields and villages, my home is north of the city. I opened the curtains and saw the wind hovering in the twinkling neon lights of Tibet, which are very strange to them. The wind knows only the bare tree, the grass burning wildfire, the roadside haystacks, children’s headstrong hair and the elderly village life. The wind does not know the city’s road, who must have told them I am here, will climb