一那天下午,我老态龙钟地坐在北京来运村路边的水泥牙子上。午后灿烂的阳光铺陈在我满是皱纹的脸上,光线带来的暖意似乎也蒸发了思想,脑子里空空的。我的眼睛不由自主地眯缝起来,阳光里年轻的人们欢快地走动,大家都兴高采烈地忙碌着,没有人注意到我这个“糟老头子”。老了,老了。一夜白头。原来老了就是这种感觉。佝偻着背,步履蹒跚,做戏如此的我居然会在午后的阳光里情不自禁地回忆起以前的生活,沧桑无比地 One afternoon, I sat on an old-fashioned cement toothpick on the side of Beijing’s Yun-Yun Village. Bright afternoon sun spread in my face full of wrinkles, the warmth of light seems to evaporate the thought, mind empty. My eyes involuntarily narrowed. The young people in the sunshine walked happily, everyone was happily busy, no one noticed me this “bad old man.” Old, old. White overnight. The old is that feeling.佝 偻 back, hobbled, acting so I actually can in the afternoon sun can not help but to recall the previous life, extremely vicissitudes of life