每个星期,我总要从城市的东南方一直骑车到西北角,为的是打开那扇门。简易的防盗门终年开着,所以, 映入眼帘的便是一扇写有“文章华国,诗礼传家”的木门。屋内的人总是把这扇门打开,让我们进去,领我们走进门里——那扇文学的门。进出这个门已有一年多了。刚开始的时候,腿总不听使唤,站在门外脚挪不动步。屋内的那个人硬是把我拉了进去。我总算进到这扇大门里了。尽管是那个人拉进去的,但不久我发现,屋里有意思得很。 Every week, I always ride from the southeast of the city to the northwest corner to open the door. The simple anti-theft door is open all year round. Therefore, a wooden door with the words “Chinese, poetry, and family” is greeted by eyes. The people in the house always open this door, let us go in, and lead us into the door—the door of literature. More than a year has passed in and out of this gate. At the beginning, the legs did not listen and they stood outside the door and couldn’t move. The man inside the house just pulled me in. I finally got into this door. Although it was the person who pulled in, I soon discovered that the house was very interesting.