放学路上,我常常看到一个陌生的怪老人。他年近七旬,长方脸,瘦小的个子,背有点驼。他总是坐在弄堂口那拱形的跨楼下,也总是一副悠闲的样子,好像周围发生的事与他无关。他给我的印象只有两个字:古怪。可自从那件事发生以后,我便改变了对他的看法。那天傍晚五时许,我走在放学回家的路上。雨下得太大了, After school, I often see a strange strange old man. Nearly seventy years of his face, rectangular face, thin, back a little camel. He always sat in the alley down the arched cross, it is always a leisurely look, as if what happened around him has nothing to do with him. He gave me the impression that there are only two words: weird. Since that incident, I have changed my mind about him. Five o’clock that evening, I walked home after school. Rain is too big,