一六月,盛夏。天刚破晓,天地一片沉寂,胡石柱从土屋里走出来,抬头,观天。天上布满碎片的云,像老瓦片,像鲤鱼鳞。瓦渣云,晒死人,又是一个热死老鼠的天气。瓦片云下飞来一群鸽子,在空中翱翔。鸽子的尾巴上绑有哨子,哨音随着鸽子的飞翔,发出高高低低的声,很好听。他仰起头,看鸽子。脑子里萌生了鸽子的样子:小巧玲珑的头,晶亮的眼睛,鼓囊囊的鼻子,尖尖的嘴,光滑的羽毛,看人时脑袋一探 One six months, summer. Just dawn dawn, heaven and earth a quiet, Hu Shizhu came out from the earth house, looked up, view days. Fragmented clouds in the sky, like old tiles, like carp scales. Watt slag clouds, Sun people, but also a hot dead mouse weather. A cloud of pigeons flew under the tile cloud and soar in the air. The whistle is tied to the tail of the pigeon and the whistling sounds high and low as the pigeons fly, so it sounds good. He looked up and looked at the pigeons. The pigeons are sprouted in my head: a small, dazzling head, a bright eye, a pouch nose, a pointed mouth, a smooth feather,