黄昏,一位中等身材的青年踽踽独行在苏州河边,他深感苦闷、徬徨。他当过兵,也搞过工会的宣传工作。他总觉得生活对他太不公平,于是他看不惯周围的一切,常爱发发牢骚;可又不甘寂寞,便埋头写作了七、八年。生不逢时奈何天,辛苦的奋斗换回的只是一封封铅印的退稿信,冰凉的心冷到底了。回首望望家——跻身在河边棚户区的小搁楼,那么矮小,那 Twilight, a young man of medium stature alone in the Suzhou River, he was depressed, shy. He worked as a soldier and also promoted the trade union’s propaganda work. He always felt life is too unfair to him, so he could not understand all around, often love to complain; but unwilling loneliness, they buried writing for seven or eight years. Reluctant to do nothing, days of hard work in exchange for a letter of seal is only a rejection letter, cold cold in the end. Looked back to look forward to home - among the shantytowns small shelves, so short, that