翻开那卷着边的落满细细灰尘的旧书,时光好像翻回了母亲的那泛黄的旧时代。手边这整理了一摞的旧书,本是打算拉去卖掉的,家里的书橱上满满当当地排列着各类书籍,逼得我只得把这压箱底的一堆书腾出,好安放我堆得快要溢出书桌的资料。唉,空间有限啊,逼仄的书房里射来夕阳的一缕光芒,母亲圆润的字体毫无征兆地映入我的眼帘。我一怔,停下手中的活计。盯着扉页上母 Open the old, dusty old book that rolled up, the time seemed to turn back to the yellowed old age of the mother. This is finishing a pile of old books, this is going to be sold to sell, the family’s bookshelf lined with books of all sorts, so I had to put pressure on the bottom of a pile of books, so I placed the pile Spilling over desk information. Alas, the space is limited, the constringent study shot a ray of sunset light, my mother rounded font without warning to my eyes. I am startled, stop the hands of live. Staring at the title page mother