记忆中,故乡是座沿江小城,大江的支流穿城而过。很小的时候,我就学会了站在桥头倚着青石板看身下的船只穿梭来往,看泊在桥边的船上冒出青灰的炊烟,看渔伢在浅水中扑腾跳跃。船一只一只地喧嚣而来,又一只一只地悄然而去,桥却永远是寂然沉默的,或许它看得太多了,不愿再发出片言只语了,正如它用宽敞的怀抱容忍着一个小孩每日在这里窥看着这个世界一样。 In memory, the hometown is a small town along the river, and a tributary of the river runs through the city. When I was very young, I learned to stand by the ship on the bridge leaning against the quartzite board and watch the ships moored on the bridge to see the smoke from the bridge and watch the fisherman leaping in the shallow water. One by one, the ship came and one by one quietly disappeared. The bridge was always silent and silent. Maybe it looked too much and it did not want to make a few words, just as it used to be spacious. Embrace a child to peep into the world every day.