回家的路上有一座桥。漫步上去,断断续续的吱嘎声打破了宁静,在弄清楚你不是有意和它们一较高低后,嘤嘤喁喁夹杂着花香水汽迅速而毫不客气地将你也融了进去。灰白色水泥石栏静静伫立,看样子已见过风风雨雨。红红的被磨平了边角的地砖显得对一切都毫不在意,宽容大度地给青草让出缝隙,让它们三三两两地认真谈论今天的天气。 There is a bridge on the way home. Stroll up, intermittent squeak broke the quiet, after you find out that you are not interested in them and a relatively high and low, mixed with flowers and water vapor quickly and without any kind of you will melt into it. Gray cement stone column quietly stands, looks like it has seen the ups and downs. The red, ground-polished floor tiles appear to be totally indifferent to everything, giving way to the grass with tolerance and allowing them to talk seriously about the weather in twos and threes.