蜂蜜似的阳光穿过枝叶洒在红木地板上,微风乍起,揉碎万点金光。光束中起舞的尘埃打着旋悠悠飘下,落在墙角的木匣子上,唤醒了沉睡的过往。匣中是厚厚一叠信笺,每一封都是一个故事。那些故事总有一个充满仪式感的开头。一碟清甜的水果、一只老友般的钢笔、一角被风拂起的白纱帘、一团墙角盛开的绣球花。 Honey-like sunlight sprinkled through the leaves on the mahogany floor, breeze first crumble million gold. The dust dancing in the beam hovering around the corner of the wooden box, awakening the sleeping past. The box is a thick stack of letterheads, each one is a story. Those stories always have a ritualistic beginning. A sweet dish of fruit, an old friend’s pen, white curtains blown in the wind, and hydrangeas blooming in the corner.