好友寄来一张北京三里屯使馆区的照片，让我看看曾经熟悉和钟爱的秋色。是啊，当我想念北京的秋天时，这想念每每化作眼前漫漫的银杏树叶和耳边的低低风吟，还有当年流行的一首歌的歌词“我是一只小小鸟，想要飞，却怎么也飞不高”。连自己那时的样子，也跃然眼前，秋天起风的日子里，常常是一条红格呢裙子，黑色高领羊毛衫，头上包着一块红丝巾, 穿过种满银杏树的巷子，去打大学毕业后的第一份工， 这么多年过去了，我好像还是一只想飞的鸟，那召唤来自飞翔的感觉，不为到哪儿，只为飞。无目的带来自由，所过之处留下想念，这想念有时
如同微风掠过，而我就在世界的某个角落，也许是一个月明星稀的秋夜，静听风吟。
To show me Beijing’s autumn colors, a former colleague sent over a photo he took of ginkgo trees in Sanlitun diplomatic compounds with which I used to be very familiar. Yes, when I miss the autumn in Beijing, it is the boundless expansion of these golden fan-shape ginkgo leaves I see and the soft whispers of the wind I hear, and I recall lyrics of a popular song in those years: “I am a small bird, eager to fly but can never reach high…”. Often appearing vividly was also an image of myself, in a black turtle-neck pullover and a red woolen skirt, head wrapped in a red silk scarf, walking along the ginkgo tree lined streets on a windy autumn day, toward my first job after university…Years have passed, and I still feel like a bird, eager to fly. The allure is the flying itself, not to any destination but to fly. Absence of a goal creates freedom, while every episode along the way lingers in the memories. On some days these memories brush through like a breeze, perhaps on an autumn night, under bright full moon and few stars, and all I have to do is to quietly listen to its whispers.
