它是蝴蝶形状的,一把木梳,断了,成为两截。那是在西安断的。它弯了,像拱桥,我想它一定是不能承受北方的干燥。泡在水里,许久还不能伸展为平直。心急,用手扳,于是就断了。虽然它已经不再可以梳发,但它依然漂亮,我的名字刻在上面,字迹依然清晰。如果不是断梳,也许我都忘记了,我去过瓷器口。在那个重庆古镇,我淘到这把木梳。或许它太淡了,至今我也想不起什么,像清水一般。我说的是瓷器口,淡淡的古镇,淡淡的下午。 It is a butterfly shape, a comb, broken, become two. It was broken in Xi’an. It is bent, like an arch bridge, and I think it must have been unable to withstand the dryness of the north. Soaked in water for a long time can not stretch straight. Impatient, with a hand, so it broke. Although it is no longer possible to comb, it is still beautiful, my name is engraved on it, and the writing is still clear. If not broken, maybe I have forgotten, I went to porcelain mouth. In that ancient town of Chongqing, I scoured the wooden comb. Perhaps it is too light, so far I can not remember anything, like water. I say porcelain mouth, a touch of the ancient town, a touch of afternoon.