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趁守工地的人不注意,她悄悄跑进正在盖的房子里,拣出一处比较平整的,躺在温暖的泥灰里睡觉,像是他身上的味道。她歪着头趴在窗口等着看女儿,每天早晨都这样,有时是梳好了头,有时是披着头发叼着梳子看。女儿还没从楼梯口出来,她的脖子等得酸痛,随便扭扭,几根脱落的头发从领口处飘了下去。窗口正对着一棵粗壮的老榆树,树干分岔很多,叶子黄绿不齐,风轻轻一吹,黄叶像从头皮脱落的头
As the man in the field paid no attention to her, she quietly ran into the house she was building, picking out a relatively flat, lying asleep in warm clay, like the taste of him. She tilted her head and waited at the window awaiting her daughter. Every morning, she sometimes combed her head, sometimes in her hair with a comb in her hair. Her daughter had not come out of the stairs, her neck so sore, casually twisting, a few drops of hair drifting down from the neckline. Window is facing a stout old elm tree, bifurcation of the trunk a lot of yellow-green leaves, the wind blows gently, yellow leaves like the head from the scalp