曾经,我很羡慕上世纪“八十年代的年轻人”。他们自小奔突嬉戏于残垣,拳攥伟大真理,烂熟革命术语,自由自在,以为“破”就是“立”。凭借最后一波浪漫,无数个他们傲骄于上世纪八十年代末文学黄金年代。当梦想照进现实,转眼一九九○年代,物欲横流,想象力再也不是第一生产力。理想与情怀,倏忽升腾为不透光的雾霾。于是,一部分人沉默,一部分人沉潜。还 Once, I envy the last century “young people of the eighties ”. They play in the remnants of childhood, fist clutching the great truth, overhand revolutionary terminology, freedom, that “broken ” is “legislation ”. With the last wave of romance, countless of them are proud of the literary golden age of the late eighties of last century. When the dream shines light on the reality, in the 1990’s, materialism and imagination are no longer primary productive forces. Ideal and feelings, suddenly rising as opaque haze. As a result, some people are silent, some people are subdued. also