一腊月三十,我奶奶从仓房里取回了五角形的灯笼。这个灯笼很简陋,去年糊上去的红纸七零八落、斑斑驳驳的。用木条构架的五角星上,依然沾着干了的糨子,经风吹日晒变得黑漆寥光的。我奶奶坐在火盆旁边,把那些碎纸一点点撕下来,顺手扔进了火盆里,屋子里便缭绕起呛人的烟味。她又把抹布放在水盆里沾湿,慢慢地清理着粘在木条上的糨子。我奶奶的神情很专注,专注得不像在做活计, A twelfth lunar month thirty, my grandmother retrieved the pentagonal lantern from the barn. This lantern is very simple, last year paste go up red and white, speckled barges. Five-pointed star with a wooden frame, still stained with dried prickly heat, the wind and the sun has become a black lacquer. My grandmother sat next to the brazier, the shredded paper a little bit torn down, easily thrown into the brazier, the room will be filled with choking smoke. She put the rag in the basin wet again, slowly cleaning sticks on sticks. My grandmother look very focused, not as focused on doing live work,