那天,黄昏,天空开始飘起了白雪,空气中有香烟燃烧的淡淡味道。差不多有15年了,在每一年12月的某个黄昏,一个本该大被好眠的日子里,我都会在这样的场景中安静地对着电视。在这一年一度的节日里,欧洲人来了,南美人也来了,在东亚的寒冷空气中,一团火就这样点燃了全世界的热情。在一根香烟燃尽的时间里,我冷冷的目光总会被记忆烫伤。天使般的荷兰三剑客,伟大的三个巴尔干火枪手,梦幻般的 That day, at dusk, the sky began to float in the snow, the faint smell of cigarette burning in the air. For almost 15 years, at a dusk in December of each year, a sleepy day, I was in this scene quietly facing the TV. During the annual festival, Europeans came and the South Americans came. In a cold air in East Asia, a fire awaited the enthusiasm of the whole world. During a burnout of a cigarette, my cold eyes are always scorned by memory. Angelic Dutch Three Musketeers, the great three Balkans musketeers, fantastic