在林芝当兵的时候,我总试图和当地的藏民说话、交流。那次我在连队值勤,在一棵树叶婆娑的梧桐树下全副武装地站着,面前是一张桌子,上面摆放着一个记录本。我专注地望着每一个经过营区的人,他们有的骑着马,有的赶着牦牛,有的吸着鼻烟,有的不停地回头朝我做鬼脸。其中有个卷发的小男孩,身着漂亮的藏装,一只古铜色的手臂露在空袖外面,那双金色嵌边的红靴子十分炫目。他走了很远,又一路小跑回来。我不知他究竟想起了什么,那么急切,气喘吁吁,几乎都 While being a soldier in Nyingchi, I always tried to talk to local Tibetans and exchange ideas. On that occasion, I was on duty in the company and stood in full armor under a leafy sycamore tree, in front of which was a table with a notebook. I focused on each camping people, some of them riding horses, some rushing yaks, some smoking snuff, and some kept turning back to make a grimace for me. Among them was a curly-haired little boy, dressed in a beautiful costume, a bronze arm exposed in the empty sleeve, the pair of golden rimmed red boots is very dazzling. He walked far and trotted back. I do not know what he remembered, so eager, breathless, almost all