那只墨水瓶,是我从村头的学堂偷来的。学堂坐落在一个土丘上,周围除生长着三棵枣树和两株柳树外,看不见更多植物。木条的窗棂,灰尘密布;屋顶上的瓦,长满青苔。阳光从瓦缝间泻下,照在教室里一张张憨态可掬的小脸上,梦一样飘忽。整个学堂,总共十余个学生,一个老师。四季在这里没有色彩,就像那些孩子眼里,没有春天和秋天,只有麦子和面包,田野和道路。他们在一个封闭的世界里,安置肉身和心灵。我是那一群缺少色彩的孩子当中,最早发现色彩的人。 That ink bottle, I stole from the village’s school. The school is located on a mound, surrounded by the growth of three jujube trees and two willow trees, can not see more plants. Wooden window sash, dusty clouds; roof tiles, covered with moss. Sunshine from tile seam diarrhea, according to a picture of a naive little face in the classroom, the same erratic. The entire school, a total of more than ten students, a teacher. Four seasons here, no color, just like those children’s eyes, no spring and autumn, only wheat and bread, fields and roads. They place their body and soul in a closed world. I am one of the first to find the color among the small group of children.