昏暗的天,空气中氤氲着一种古老的气味,令人窒息。仿佛是完全用土垒起来的房子,扑簌簌地掉着尘灰,顶上还依稀有些瓦片,零零碎碎,斑斑驳驳。破门,颓墙,败柳,残花,枯枝,萎叶。破碎的事物充斥着人们的心灵,又有几人知道它们曾经多么美丽。时间似乎凝固了,似乎生了锈,在门前那断了好几根藤的残破的老藤椅上,仿佛又出现了那个 Dim dark days, the air smelled an ancient smell, suffocating. It seems that the house is completely occupied with soil, falling out of dust, the top still vaguely some tiles, piecemeal, mottled barbed. Broken, Rui wall, defeated willow, residue, dead branches, Wei Ye. Broken things fill the hearts of people, and a few people know how beautiful they have been. Time seemed frozen, seemed rusty, broken old wicker chair broken in front of several rattan, as if appeared again