在一张二战期间的老照片上,看见一个蓬头垢面的年轻战士,正啃着军用饼干,一排露出的白牙很是晃眼,在他旁边,是成山堆积的战友尸体。一场惨烈的战斗,硝烟还没有散尽。与死亡的集体告别,在战争中是司空见惯的事。没有医院里亲人离世时的痛苦嚎叫,没有一场庄重的仪式。死亡,在那个时候,就是死神身上的羽毛,大树上的枝叶,在飓风之中的瞬间飘落。让我想起当年的唐山大地震,深夜里一座熟睡的城市,没一 In an old photograph during World War II, I saw an unkempt young soldier chewing on military biscuits. A row of white teeth appeared very dazzling. Beside him, there was a mountain of dead comrade-in-arms. A fierce battle, smoke has not yet cleared. Collective farewell to death is a common occurrence in the war. There was no solemn ceremony without the howl of pain when the relatives passed away in the hospital. Death, at that time, is the feather of death, branches and leaves on the tree, falling in the moment of the hurricane. Reminds me of the Tangshan earthquake that year, a sleeping city late at night, no one