一他,弓着腰,步履蹒跚地向前走着。身上罩着一件破旧不堪的军棉袄,背上的蛇皮口袋被突起的脊梁顶起一块。但他的头依然抬起,两眼毫无卑怯地直视前方,额头的道道皱纹似乎要把无尽的苦难深深地刻在他瘦削蜡黄的脸上。他的嘴微向前突出,说话咿咿呀呀——他是一个哑巴。二 1992年,我8岁。我家刚搬到这条街,门口就有这么一个哑巴,似乎没有人知道他的姓名,只是称他为“哑巴”。起初,我以为他不过是一个普普通通的拾荒者,无家可归,四处流浪。但不久就发现他和其他拾荒者不一样。他定居此地,房子就在街边小巷的深处,是一个低矮破烂的土坯子。那时,我和我的同学们上学放学都喜欢走小路,但无一例外地害怕哑巴的房子,因为那土坯后面有一口黑的棺材,而且一个同学还向我们提到有人在那儿遇到鬼的事。其实怕哑巴的远不止我们,整 Once he bowed, he walked forward with a faltering motion. His body was covered with a worn military jacket, and the snakeskin pocket on his back was lifted up by a raised spine. But his head was still lifted up, and his eyes looked straight ahead. His wrinkles on the forehead seemed to engrave endless hardships on his lean, sallow face. His mouth stood slightly forward, talking babbling - he was a dumb. In 1992, I was 8 years old. My family had just moved to this street, and there was such a dumb at the door. No one seemed to know his name, but he was called “dumb.” At first, I thought he was just an ordinary scavengers, homeless and wandering around. But soon he was found to be different from other scavengers. He settled here, and the house was in the depths of the alleys of the street, a low, tattered adobe. At that time, both my classmates and I went to school after school to enjoy the path, but without exception, fearing the mute house because there was a black coffin behind the adobe, and a classmate also mentioned to us that someone was encountering ghosts there. Things. In fact, it’s more than just us that we are afraid of dumbness.