成群的海鸥越过低低的海岸线,在晴空中划过一道完美的弧线,飞向远际。翻转的水花在风中摇摆渐渐形成父亲的轮廓,海浪在耳畔亲密呼唤像是父亲低沉的嗓音,在远方发出玄虚的空响。时光不觉泛成了海,回忆里的时光在年少的记忆中化作一片父亲的海。从我五六岁记事起,父亲就和母亲在这个临海的小镇上做生意。在我上幼儿园之前父亲用他那辆很拉风的“钱江”牌摩托车载着我在小镇上到处跑。在一个初夏深春的夜晚,父亲载我回家时, Flocks of seagulls across the low coastline, in the clear sky across the perfect arc, fly to the distant. Flipped the water in the wind swing gradually formed the father’s silhouette, the waves in the ear close call like his father’s voice low, in the distance issued a mysterious empty voice. Time flies into the sea pan, memories of the time in the young memories into a father’s sea. From my five-year-old mindset, my father and mother in this small town in the sea business. Before my kindergarten, my father used his very windy “Qianjiang” motorcycle carrying me to run around in the town. In the early summer night, when my father took me home,