我一直以为,一座有人住的屋子,才算是有温度的。老屋住过我家四代人,它的温度,早已凝在了一砖一瓦之上,摸一摸,就很温暖。不必进去,站在门口就能感觉到烟火气息,屋檐下的廊道上堆满柴火,门前是扎成屋子形状的秸秆,谈不上整齐,总有几根横七竖八地伸出来,它们安安分分地立在那儿,看着主人进进出出。若是黄昏,你还能看到水泥道上那一行草鞋踩过带着水田泥巴的脚印,准是农忙后的男主人回家吃饭了。老屋看着自己这廊道,满意地侧着身,垂眉 I always thought that a manned room was regarded as temperature. Old house lived in my family for four generations, its temperature, already solidified in the brick, the touch, it is very warm. Do not have to go in, you can feel the smoke at the entrance to the atmosphere, under the eaves of the corridor filled with firewood, in front of the house is tied into the shape of the straw, not to mention tidy, there are always several outspread, they safely divided Stand there, watching the master in and out. If it is dusk, you can see that row of straw sandals on the road step muddy paddy paddy footprints, it is busy after the man came home to eat. Old house watching their corridor, satisfied with the sideways, brow