多年前,我老家两层野墅后边暗暗猫着间柴房,它在我近二十年的记忆里难以磨灭的印象是古老、温暖、顽强而又孤独。起初它在我颇记事时就已经是一副破旧的样子。陈旧的砖,陈旧的瓦,黑不溜秋腐朽的房梁总是挂满蛛网,还有两扇不像样的小窗上不完整的玻璃总是模糊灰暗,窗棱隐约看得清斑驳的红漆,窗台上厚厚的灰尘彰显着它久无人打理的惨淡光景。那老式的木门低矮狭窄,却有两块门板,门板转轴已腐朽得岌岌 Many years ago, behind my two-story home Villa, I secretly caught the firewood room. It was an indelible impression in my memory of nearly two decades that it was ancient, warm, tenacious and lonely. At first it was a shabby look when I was quite memorized. Old brick, old tile, black not slippery autumn Decayed beams always covered with cobweb, there are two small window is not intact the glass is always dark and fuzzy, the window edge vaguely see mottled red paint, windowsill Thick dust on the long show it unmanageable bleak scene. That old wooden door is low and narrow, but there are two pieces of door, the door shaft rotten already precarious