我在注视着一张老照片沉思。照片上,一位老人倚靠在床头,鼻梁上架着一副老花镜,头上一顶绒线帽,戴着白色线手套的双手捧着一本书,正读得专心。照片说明,时年老人89岁,这是老人生前最后一张照片。掐指一算,这照片拍摄于1991年。最后一张照片,一位老人,89岁,坐在床上读书。面对着它,我能想些什么呢?一些说不清楚,理还乱的情愫在周身弥漫。感慨人生之无常,感叹人生之苦短。俱往矣。 I was contemplating an old photograph. In the photo, an old man leans on the headboard, holds a pair of presbyopic glasses on the bridge of the nose, a velvet cap in his head, a book in both hands with white thread gloves, and concentrates on reading. The photo shows that when the elderly are 89, this is the last photo of an old man. Pinch a count, this photo was taken in 1991. The last photo, an old man, was 89 and sat reading in bed. Faced with it, what can I think of something? Some do not know, unreasonable feelings filled the whole body. Sense of impermanence of life, sigh life short. All carry on.