早晨六点半,我踏出门时发现整条街都笼罩在薄雾里。这个季节的雾气有种特别的质感,不是冬天那种刺骨的冷,而是带着一丝潮湿的温柔。我沿着平时的路线往老城区走,脚下的青石板还湿漉漉的,反射着路灯昏黄的光。走到拐角处的早餐摊时,油条在滚油里发出"滋滋...
#清晨
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