他就在小镇中心的那条街边静坐着,戴着一副乌黑的墨镜,抚摩得发亮的拐棍放在身边,手中拿着一柄十字架样的木架,上面挂满了各式各样的油灯。他就那样一动不动地坐在那儿,似一尊城市里的雕塑。那些各式各样的油灯的前身,是大小各异的药瓶或饮料瓶。有的标签还没撕掉,有的撕了一半儿,那驳杂的模样在爱美的人眼里根本不值一提。在他身后不远处便是一家现代 He sat quietly on the side of the street in the center of the town, wearing black sunglasses, and stroking the shinny walking stick beside him, holding a cross-shaped wooden frame in his hand, Kind of oil lamp. He sat there motionless like a sculpture in the city. The predecessor of a wide range of oil lamps are pill bottles or bottles of different sizes. Some of the labels have not been torn off, and some have been torn for half the time. That complicated appearance is not worth mentioning in the eyes of the beautiful people. Not far behind him is a modern one