有那样一个精神故乡躲在尘世的角落里,几近要被浮躁的沙尘暴掩埋。他已经老了,佝偻着背,像一只乌龟,踽踽独行。那一张褶皱的脸如核桃皮般雕刻着岁月的痕迹,脸上凹凸不平,下起雨来那几个“小水洼”几乎要盛满水了。嘴角便是跷跷板两端,起伏不定。更有特点的是他的头发,稀稀疏疏几缕“丝瓜藤”摇摆着,被淘气的孩子戏称为“二毛”。 There is such a spiritual home hiding in the corners of the earth, almost to be impetuous sandstorm buried. He is old, stooped back, like a tortoise, wandering alone. That a wrinkled face, such as walnut-like carved signs of years, his face uneven, it began to rain that a few “water” is almost full of water. Mouth is the seesaw ends, ups and downs. More characteristic is his hair, sparsely sparsely scattered “loofah rattan ” swinging, naughty children dubbed “two hairs ”.