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传说中,“年”是一种动物,被红袍老人镇住之后,人们便记住了它,也记住了“年”。而今小小的村子,真像一只袒着胸憨睡成一团小猪。阳光很暖和,尤其在这样一个小小的村子里,半遮脸的阳光便把一条条小街涂满——涂满安静、斑驳、年岁。这种弥漫,是熟悉,又新鲜,谁——不论老人,孩子、隔壁嫂子嗅着这种味道,渐渐涌起,心中又盛着安详、恬静。捺不住的爆竹,不禁响几声,化作层层声波,浮在各家四方的天井上,逐渐也习惯了安静的小村在此时抖着热闹,抖着一种将至的感情。
According to legend, “Year” is an animal. After being estranged by the old man in Hongpao, people remember it and remember “Year”. This small village is like a piglet sleeping on his chest. The sun was warm, especially in such a small village. The half-covered sunlight covered a small street - painted quietly, mottled, and aged. This diffuse is familiar and fresh. No matter how old the child is, the child or the next-door nephew smells this smell and gradually rises. The heart is filled with peace and tranquility. Unstoppable firecrackers can not help but rang a few times, turning into layers of sound waves, floating in the courtyard of the Quartet, and gradually accustomed to the quiet village at this time shaking lively, shaking a kind of approaching feelings.