煤油八九岁,十来岁,一个冬天的午后的样子,大约是,过去了的事一旦存放在时光的线谱上,就有了几分美丽的残缺。街头商店门口的一堆油桶,吸引了初民哥和我。这里的一旮旯、一草木,我们都熟悉,也玩腻了,只要哪里多了一堆新物,或店员倾倒了一撮垃圾,对我们 When kerosene is eight or nine years old, a teenager, a winter afternoon, about the past, once stored in the time line spectrum, there is a bit beautiful and incomplete. A pile of drums in front of the street shops, attracted the early people and I brother. Here a staggering, a vegetation, we are familiar with, but also tired, as long as where a lot of new things, or the clerk dumping a handful of rubbish, to us