烧烤店的排烟管笔直地横出店外,滚滚油烟伴着巨大嗓响张牙舞爪地横行。我飞速逃离了那里,油烟惹得我胃里翻江倒海,我看见阴郁的天空,竟有种想哭的冲动,我从来没有这么的怀念炊烟。那一缕炊烟,从遥远的童年飘来,穿梭在光影里,带来点点滴滴班驳泛黄的回忆。我的童年的大部分时间都是在农村,村中无以乐者,也没有同龄孩子相伴,村子离镇很远,偶有货郎吆喝着前来。村子很静,像是嵌在土里的,村中人们都有着一种特殊的默契,无需多交流便可领会彼此间的意图。当时我最喜欢做的一件事就是一个人 Breathable barbecue bar straight out of the shop, billowing smoke along with a huge throat claws rampant. I quickly fled there, fumes provoked my stomach down the river, I saw gloomy sky, there is a kind of impulse to cry, I never miss so much smoke. That plume of smoke, floated from a distant childhood, shuttle in the light and shadow, bringing a little bit of barbed reminder yellowing memories. Most of my childhood was in the countryside, there was no musician in the village, no accompanying children of my age, the village far from the town, and the occasional shopkeeper shouting. The village is quiet, as if embedded in the earth, and the people in the village have a special understanding that they can understand each other’s intents without much communication. One of my favorite things to do at that time was myself