那件女人的胸罩是粉红色的,带着钢圈和蕾丝花边,田老头从院子里捡起它的时候正是黄昏时分。黄梅天气,到处都湿嗒嗒的,田老头晾在院子里的衣服也是湿嗒嗒的,草绿色汗背心和大红色短裤,像刚用颜料刷刷涂过似的。田老头一手捏住胸罩的两个半球,使劲一挤,挤得手心里全是水。他双手的粗茧摩擦着那棉实、柔软的部分,眯眼朝上面的阳台仰了下头,水珠从飘摇在半空的大号T恤和几条花裙子上坠溅到他脸上,他那朝外凸起的,肥腻敦厚的香肠嘴“啪”地咧开,打出了一个大哈欠。 The woman’s brassiere was pink, with rims and lace, and the old man picked it up from the yard just before dusk. Huangmei weather, damp everywhere, Tian old man hanging clothes in the yard is wet-da, grass green sweat vest and big red shorts, just painted with a paint brush like. Tian old man pinch the bra two hemispheres, a hard squeeze, squeezed his hand full of water. His coarse calluses rubbed against the soft, soft part of his cottony fabric and squinted his head down toward the balcony above. The drops splashed on his face from a large T-shirt and several flower skirts floating in midair That outwardly raised, fatty and thick sausage mouth “snapped ” to open up, hit a big yawn.