我出生在鲁西南的一个小村庄,村庄覆压大地,邮票一般大小。村里每个人都是熟人,不能混叫,不是叔伯,就是姑婶。常常有人抚着我的头说我淘,言语中充满了慈爱。村前有一条河,夏肥冬瘦,那是孩子们的乐园。我们把大头针折弯做成鱼钩,或者用废弃的窗纱撒上饵料做成渔网。收获的鱼虾直接包在一张纸里,撒上盐巴,再糊上泥丢进火堆里。须臾之间,鱼虾就熟了。河上有一座抗日战争时期遗留的老桥,残破不堪,我 I was born in a small village in the southwestern part of the country, where the village was pressed against the earth and the stamps were of a normal size. Everyone in the village is an acquaintance, not a shout, not an uncle, an aunt. Often someone caressed my head and said I Amoy, full of love in words. There is a river in front of the village, summer fat and thin, it is a paradise for children. We bend the pins into fishhooks, or fish the gauze with scraps of gauze. Harvested fish and shrimp directly wrapped in a piece of paper, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and then mud thrown into the fire. Between whiskers, the fish cooked. There is a bridge left over from the War of Resistance Against Japan on the river, broken, me