一张黑褐色的老门板 ,两条长凳 ,凑成了老人的旧书摊。它静静地独立于这条喧闹的小街 ,无声无息。认识小书摊 ,绝非偶然。小时候 ,家里条件差 ,我总被四处奔波的父母锁在家里。透过窄窄的玻璃窗 ,我怯生生地窥视着外面那并不属于我的繁华街市。流动的人群 ,变幻的色彩 ,渐行渐 A dark brown old door, two benches, made up the old book stalls. It quietly independent of this noisy street, silent. It’s no coincidence that you know a small book stand. When I was young, my family was in poor condition, and I was always locked in my home by my parents. Through the narrow glass windows, I timidly peek out outside the bustling downtown that does not belong to me. Flow of people, changing colors, gradually