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他们的脸上像是蒙了一层灰,颜色越积越深,待到终于发觉不适,会尴尬地用粗糙的手用力抹一把脸,朝你羞涩地笑笑,然后撇下你怪异的目光,用心去干着那些对自己来说是异常重要的事情。他们会开着小电驴、套着厚手套,在校门外仰着头叉着手等着自己的孩子。他们的脸是不精神的,是枯的,好似用水擦一把也无法彻彻底底地干净。他们有自己经营的小圈子。他们在自己的心中打着小算盘,只要这个算盘打好了,打痛快了,就会心满意足。樟树一棵一棵茂盛有力地挺拔在马路两侧。它们身上落满了日积月累的灰尘,唯有大雨才会把它们冲刷得干干净净,小小地惊艳一回——原来行道树也是这么鲜活的。而在此之前,似乎从
Their faces were covered in gray as the colors grew darker and deeper until they finally found themselves uncomfortable, awkwardly wiping their face with a rough hand, smiling at you shyly, and leaving you weird Eyes, hard to do those who are very important to themselves. They would drive a small donkey, a thick glove and head their head and fork outside their school to wait for their children. Their faces are unhealthy and dry, as if they were rubbed with water and thoroughly cleansed. They have a small circle of their own. They are in their own mind the name of a small abacus, as long as the abacus lay, quick pain, will be satisfied. A lush camphor trees vigorous and vigorous on both sides of the road. They are covered with accumulated dust, only the heavy rain will wash them clean, little amazing one - the original street tree is so fresh. And before that seems to be from