翻开了那本深紫色缎面的厚相册,拂去了岁月的灰尘,一种流年微苦的气息扑面而来。第一张是母亲小时候的照片,照片已经微微泛黄,岁月在上面留下了一份印迹,母亲脸上是温暖的笑容,但身后是一排排低矮的平房,可以隐约看见路并不平坦,如果有车过去,应该会尘土飞扬。 Open that thick purple satin thick album, dusted the dust of years, a fleeting bitter breath blowing. The first was a picture of a mother’s childhood, the picture was slightly yellowed, and the years left a blot on her face. Her mother’s face was a warm smile, but rows of low-rise bungalows behind each other could vaguely see that the road was not Flat, if there is a car in the past, it should be dusty.