背井离乡之后,我又想家了。我想念新村运动更换石板屋顶之前,茅草屋檐之下的童年,我想念茅屋里的家人,我想念屋顶之上循环不息的春夏秋冬,多么分明。深呼吸。现在,十六岁的我,趴在铺着黄色油毡纸的地板上写信。哥哥,快来带我离开这里。然后再把信纸撕碎。已经六月了。田野里人们正在忙着插秧。堆过粪肥的地方,大麦秸正在腐烂。流下后颈的阳光滚烫。大门旁边的草杜鹃已经挤出了小 After I leave home, I miss home again. I miss the village movement to replace the slate roof before the grass under that eaves, I miss the hut’s family, I miss the endless rotation of the roof of the spring, summer, autumn, how clear. Take a deep breath. Now, I am sixteen, writing on the floor covered with yellow linoleum paper. Brother, come take me to leave here. Then tear up the stationery. It’s already June. People in the field are busy planting rice. Where the manure was piled up, the barley straw was decaying. After the neck down the sun hot. Grass rhododendron beside the gate has been squeezed out