路,还是那条路,只是多了水泥的灌注。很小的时候,端坐在三轮卡车里,一路颠簸,在泥泞中行进着。喜欢从三夹板的缝隙里探看出去,一边是青绿的田地,一边是裸露岩石的山林。无论是哪种,总归都沾染着乡间的气息。淡然地、肆意地,结下一段永生不隐的缘。卡车的声响停息了,我想我该下车,去找 Road, or that road, but more than the cement infusion. Very young, sitting in a three-wheeled truck, bumpy, marching in the mud. Like to see through the cracks in the three plywood, one side is green fields, while the bare rock mountain. Either way, it is always contaminated with the atmosphere of the country. Indifferently, wantonly, end eternal life is not hidden edge. The sound of the truck stopped, I think I should get off and find