陈旧的木门。像一个人呆滞的眼神,深沉而黯淡。我的目光迈出去,又被无声地弹回来。我摸到门的呼吸和心跳,从前一个世纪回荡而来。浊重的咳嗽,覆盖着村庄的年轮。我不想走近,我不忍触摸。这扇门,多么酷似老祖母豁牙的嘴。我看见路过的光阴,只在这门前,一个闪身,就不见了踪影。所以,我刻意记下了,这门的形状和它带有生命气息的一抹灰色。这一刻,我分明看 Old wooden door. Like a dull look, deep and bleak. My gaze went out and was silently bouncing back again. I touched the breath and heartbeat of the door, echoing from the previous century. Turbid cough, covered with village ring. I do not want to approach, I can not touch. This door, how exactly like the mouth of the old grandmother teeth. I saw the passage of time, only in front of a dodge, it disappeared. So, I made a note of it, the shape of the door and its gray touch of life. At this moment, I clearly see