一个有着清风吹拂的下午,母亲从小学校走来,远远地走来,她靠近我,把带着白色粉笔灰的右手伸向我。母亲的带着粉笔味的手就这样温暖地盖在我的年少的脸庞上。母亲的声音从高处落下来,她说,娟娟。这声音,像 After a breeze blowing in the afternoon, my mother came from a small school and came a long way. She was close to me and stretched her right hand with white chalk to me. The mother’s chalky hands were so warmly covering my young face. The mother’s voice fell from a height, she said, Juan Juan. This sound, like