风沙过眼。那个小小的少年倚靠在自家的屋门前,眸子纯静。一条路,孤独而又笔直,花、草、牛、羊、马群,它们跟他一样安静而没有奢想。年过七旬的乌国庆,只背简单的行囊,奔波的步子从未停歇过。偶尔,他也会回眸看一看少年时的自己和故乡的家门,他很想和那个少年并行地靠在一起,温暖地晒晒太阳,而于他这一生,这是 Blind eyes. The little boy leans on the front of his house and his eyes are pure. A road, lonely and straight, flowers, grass, cattle, sheep, horses, they are as quiet as he is without extravagance. Over the seventy years of Wuqing, only a simple bag, back and forth pace never stopped. Occasionally, he will also look back to see the boyhood home and hometown, he would like to go with the boy in parallel to warm the sun, and in his life, this is