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西岸城市拉马拉。上午九点,阳光明媚。一家街边的小咖啡屋把一张塑料餐桌摆上人行道。三个男人围坐桌边,神情投入正聊得起劲。我的加入让他们的谈话戛然而止。他们当中有位六七十岁的老人,满脸灰白短须,身穿一套褪了色的条子西装。另外两位年纪较轻,穿着牛仔服。一位上身穿宽松的斜纹棉布夹克,下身穿牛仔裤;另一位穿着粗布工装和一件印有“可口可乐”图案的T恤。他们俩正抽着烟,老人的嘴角叼着一支已燃尽的烟蒂。我
West Bank city Ramallah. Nine o’clock in the morning, sunny. A small cafe on the street put a plastic dining table on the sidewalk. Three men sitting around the table, looked very energetic talkative. My joining halted their conversation. Among them are sixty or seventy-year-olds with pale gray shorts and a faded striped suit. The other two are young, wearing jeans. One was wearing a loose denim jacket and the other wearing jeans. The other wearing a denim tool and a T-shirt bearing a “Coca-Cola” logo. The two of them were smoking their cigarettes, and the mouth of the old man was holding a lit cigarette butt. I