风儿萧萧,街上车水马龙,我不情愿地回过头去,大叫道:“外婆,快点——”映着落日的余晖,我总能听见一声声应答,或是苍白颤抖的低吟。一鸿孤影,拉长了岁月的视线。一小时候,外婆总是拉着我的手过 The wind was stricken and the streets were full of traffic. I reluctantly turned my back and shouted: “Grandmother, hurry up -” Reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun, I can always hear a voice response, or a pale trembling whisper. A shadow of hungry, stretched the sight of years. At an early age, my grandmother always held my hand