丝丝雨声,从屋檐上垂下。我无言地坐在北疆原野上一幢已有50年历史的苏式土屋里,拿起了笔。3年前,我离开家的那一天,雨也是这样“滴滴答答”地下着。坐在车上,我强咽下离乡的泪,对父亲挥了挥手,说,你回吧。就这样,融入迷蒙的细雨,只身一人,越县跨省,负笈而西行。一入疆,我便在一个兵团农场里落下了脚。那次谋职简单到了极点,至今让我暗自吃惊。当时 Sizzling sound, hanging down from the eaves. I sit silent in the northern wilderness in a 50-year-old Soviet soil house, picked up the pen. Three years ago, the day I left home, the rain was like this. Sitting in the car, I strongly swallow the tears of absence, waved his father and said, you back. In this way, into the misty rain, only one person, Yue County across the province, Negative and westbound. As soon as I entered Xinjiang, I dropped my feet in a corps farm. The job search to the extreme simple, so far I was surprised secretly. then