那房,终是拆了。伴着阿香的几声叹息,便也只剩下零碎的砖瓦。街角,那红漆木门在房檐压得很低的老城区中显得格外醒目,犹如一片染了墨的宣纸,硬生生地点了一笔朱砂。门外有一个院,更确切地说,那只是用几根长短不一、粗细不同的木棍浅浅地插入土中,再用麻绳连接起来,围成了不规则的方形,与外面的土路相隔开来,便成了一个私家的院子。院中有两棵香椿树,树下有张摇起来吱吱扭扭的破竹躺椅,还有一些不知名的花花草草。而推开那红色的门,房内,阴沉而潮湿,夹杂着旧木家具沾染湿气后所散发的霉味。屋内有一张大桌,儿时的我不及桌边高,它便成了我攀爬的最高目标。 That room, finally dismantled. Accompanied by a few sighs, then only fragmentary tiles. Corner, the red lacquered wooden door in the very low pressure of the old town is particularly eye-catching, like a piece of ink dyed rice, abruptly place a cinnabar. There is a courtyard outside, more precisely, it is only a few different lengths, different thickness of the stick into the soil shallow, and then tied together hemp rope, formed an irregular square, and the outer dirt road Separated, it became a private yard. There were two toon trees in the courtyard, shabby bamboo chaise lounges under the trees, and some unknown flowers and plants. And opened the red door, the room, gloomy and humid, mixed with old wooden furniture contaminated with moisture musty smell. There was a large table in my room, and when I was a child I was not as high as the table, and it became the highest goal of my climb.