Aunt grandmother lived downstairs in a big dark messy room, I rarely go in, stand before his father kang tobacco endorsement. Aunt Grandma also illiterate, a nephew to teach her own reading of "the pool of fish, swimming," wanton hit him, his face swollen Changchang keep my eyes open. She also played my father, smashed his head with a spittoon. Then someone came forward to speak family, forcing her to walk. I sat in the upstairs window and saw the door fall in slow motion out of two cars, are her students take silver at home. The servants said: "It erupted in it!"
I was eight years old to Shanghai by boat through the black ocean green water ocean, as if black is really black, green, green, although the book never saw the sea in the praise, but also a Kuaixin feeling. Sleep in the cabin reading already read many times, "Journey to the West", "Journey to the West", only the mountains and the red hot sand.
To Shanghai, sitting in the cart, I was very Kua gas and happy, pink shirt and trousers to sub-oceanic flying with Lan Hudie yarn. We lived in a small Shikumen house, marked siding. For me, it also has a tight red happiness.
But that time my father played over morphine needle, from the death of close. He sits alone on the balcony, take a wet towel head, two eyes look straight into the Yanqian rope hanging down the tendon thick and white like the rain. Splashed rain, did not catch what his mouth and murmured, I am afraid.
没有评论:
发表评论