多么古旧的屋子。墙面上是泛黑的油渍和小孩乱七八糟的涂鸦,地上散着脱落的墙粉。满是灰尘的沙发,漆皮斑驳的桌柜,狭小的空间。算了,只是暂住而已。你叹了口气,关上吱呀作响的门。你径直走向书桌,坐下,拿书,摊开。夏末刺眼的阳光,透过窗栏在书页上投下稀疏的叶影,你抬头,那是种在窗台的“地雷花”。你并不知它的学名为何,记忆里是某年秋天去院里拾了些地雷状的种子,挺 What an old house. The wall is pan-black grease and children messy graffiti, scattered on the ground wall powder. Full of dusty sofa, patent leather mottled desk cabinet, small space. Forget it, just temporary stay. You sighed and closed the door squeaking. You go straight to the desk, sit down, take a book, spread out. In the late summer, the dazzling sun shines through the window bar on the pages of the book, and you look up. That is the kind of “landflower flower” planted on the windowsill. You do not know why its scientific name, the memory is the fall of the year to pick up some mine-like seeds in the yard, quite