竹椅有些年头了,那两把竹椅,在老家堂前一小片斜照里泛着油红的光,静默安然,看起来就像是一对在尘世里过了半生的夫妻——不,是母女。是的,那是一对母女椅,在我六岁的时候,它们经由一个板匠的手进入人间,来到我和母亲的生活。我的母亲是乡村教师,皖南多山,大大小小的村子散落在山的褶缝和凹处,仿佛丛林里任意生长的蘑菇,一条山路盘山绕水串连着村子,除了天空旋飞的山鹰,没有人能看到路的尽头。 Bamboo chairs for some years, and that two bamboo chairs, in front of the home front of a small piece of pan in the glowing red light, quiet and safe, looks like a pair of half-life in the world where the couple - no, yes Mother and daughter. Yes, it was a pair of mother and daughter chairs, and when I was six, they entered the earth through the hand of a smithy and came to me and my mother’s life. My mother is a village teacher. There are many mountainous and small villages in southern Anhui scattered in the crevices and potholes of the mountains. It is like mushrooms growing arbitrarily in the jungle. Eagle, no one can see the end of the road.