父亲又在抽烟了。不止一次,父亲坐在低矮的门楼下,执一点星火,望着斑剥的墙和熏黑的房梁,默默地吞云吐雾,任那烟雾缓缓散去,融入浓浓的暮色之中。门楼是当年奶奶年老时特意建的。奶奶住过来,一门两院,既方便 Father is smoking again. More than once, my father sat down under the low door, holding a little spark, looking at the plaque wall and the blackened beams, silently puffing clouds, letting the smoke slowly dispersed, into the thick twilight in. The gatehouse was built when grandma was old. Grandma lived over, a hospital, both convenient