我走进昏暗的店铺,形销骨立、蓬头垢面。理发师拧开开关,一个歌手开始在老式收音机里轻声歌唱,电风扇在头顶吱吱作响,传递着一丝生机。我想要怎样,不知道。几个月前我就停止打理。现在,我的脸上,荒草丛生。理发师点头示意,我轻叹一声,坐下。他用喷壶打湿我的头发,我下意识地闭上眼睛。然后我 I walked into the dark shop, shape sales, unkempt. The barber turned the switch on, a singer began to sing softly in the old radio, and the fan creaked overhead, sending a hint of vitality. I want what, do not know. I stopped taking care a few months ago. Now, my face is covered with weeds. Barber nodded, I sigh, sit down. He wet my hair with a watering can, and I subconsciously closed my eyes. Then I