抬头仰望,视野因粉墙而变得逼仄,云的形体已无从欣赏,只看到它们湿润欲滴、如水墨细细调和的颜色。透过伞下的那点空间,我看到那挂不缓不急、细密斜织的雨帘,它使明晰的线条变得模糊,刻板的色块变得灵动,一切的刚劲变得柔和而朦胧。雨落在青石板的凹凼中,激起一朵朵小小的水花,油然而生的活泼取代了苍老。雨水滴下,湿漉漉地击在青石板上,击在粉墙黛瓦上,和着行人的足音——分明是有声的,却愈加显得阗寂悠远。抬眼望去,巷的尽头就在前方;但慢慢走过去,那个终点也在不断延伸,将它包藏得无限神秘,化作一条无限的青石板路,铺在你我脚下。
Looking up, the vision is narrowed due to the whitewall, and the shape of the clouds can no longer be appreciated, only to see their moist and dripping colors, such as fine and harmonious ink. Through the space under the umbrella, I can see the rain curtain, which is not slow, not urgent, but tightly woven. It makes the clear lines blurred, the rigid color blocks flexible, and all the rigidity soft and hazy. The rain falls in the concave pit of the bluestone slab, arousing a small water flower, which spontaneously replaces the old with liveliness. The rain drips down on the bluestone board, on the pink wall and the black tile, with the foot sound of the pedestrians - clearly there is a sound, but it is more and more lonely and distant. Looking up, the end of the lane is in front; but walking slowly, the end is also extending, hiding it in infinite mystery, turning it into an infinite bluestone slab Road, spreading under our feet.
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