我若把父亲写成父亲,我流泪了;我若把父亲写成文章,我失败了。站在车间门外,下意识往厂门口张望,一个熟悉的身影便映入眼帘。“爸爸——”我一声狂呼,然后飞奔,丢掉了培养了几个月的稳重形象和文雅姿态,我欲把自己扮成大人,在见到父亲这一瞬恢复成了孩子。父亲默默注视着我,我也打量着父亲,依旧是那套发白的中山装,依旧是那瘦弱的肩和黑黝黝的皮肤。走进离家千里的城市几个月来,世界在我十九岁的眼里动荡地变幻着色彩,父亲那熟悉而温和的目光使我一下子 I cried if I wrote my father as a father; if I wrote my father’s father, I failed. Standing outside the shop floor, subconsciously looked into the factory gate, a familiar figure will be greeted. “Dad - ” I barked, and then flew, lost a few months of training a steady image and elegant gesture, I want to play myself as an adult, in the moment to see his father to recover as a child. My father watched me silently, I also looked at his father, is still the set of white tunic, still thin skinny shoulders and swarthy. Walking into the Thousands of Miles City For months, the world has been changing its color in the turbulent eyes of my nineteen-year-old. My familiar and gentle father’s eyes make me suddenly