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摩托车突兀地辗在这夜。夜漆黑如墨,浓墨洇染的夜,山无棱,天地屏息。四下里没有犬吠,甚至你不知,远处的梁上或者山腹人家,有没有一只黄狗正被惊动,竖耳向车声方向望过一望。白日里走过这山路,我知道,我要回到的住处,过了一堆被毁的牌坊乱障、一方大盘石,越过激流中那些嶙峋的山石,河岸边,在一对长满青苔与荒草的“桅杆”旁,一家曾经的古驿站——如今只有两位老人栖居的一排老屋,其中的一间,便是。
The motorcycle rolled abruptly on this night. The dark night, such as ink, dark ink Dye night, mountain non-edge, breathtaking world. There are no barks, or even you do not know, far away from the beam or mountain home, there is no yellow dog is being alarmed, his ears to the direction of car looked over. Walking through the mountain during the day, I know that I want to go back to the residence, after a pile of ruined archway chaos, a large stone, across the shaky rock, riverside, in a pair covered with moss Next to the “mast” of the weeds, a former ancient coaching inn - one of them is an old house now home to only two elderly people.