夏日午后,人们似乎都在燥热的阳光里隐身了,唯有老树下斜靠着一个人影。那人戴着草帽,在聒噪的蝉声下显得分外安逸。他的面前,是一个装着十几张钞票的盆子和两只用扁担挑来的菜篮。菜篮里除了一瓶水、一杆秤和几把没有卖出去的小菜,别无他物。那人是这个小区里摆摊卖菜的。没有人关心他的来历,都形象地称他为“卖菜人”。卖菜人从不挪 In the summer afternoon, people seem to be stealthy in the hot sun, only the shadow of a shadow leaning against the old tree. The man wearing a straw hat, under the noisy cicadas, was exceptionally comfortable. In front of him was a bowl of dozens of banknotes and two baskets picked with pens. In addition to a bottle of water basket, a scale and several did not sell the side dishes, nothing else. That person is selling vegetables in this district. No one cares about his origins, vividly called him “seller.” Sellers never move