跟了这个男人实在是太长的时间了。还记得小时候和他上街时,别的小孩总被父亲抱着走在街道上,可他从未抱过我,甚至未曾牵过我的手。仿佛从来不怕我走丢,总是一个人在前面走着,远远的。走了很长一段路,才回过头来看看,然后继续走路。在安静中他慢慢地变老,穿越他的白发我渐渐长大。有时候安静也是一种对峙。他不爱我,在我看来,因为他只会在我每次考试成绩很糟的时候,在我的脸上落下他宽大的手掌,即使考得好,他也只是挤出一丝不易察觉的笑容。 It was too long with this man. I still remember when I was a kid and he was on the street, other children were always holding my father and walking on the street, but he had never held me, even without holding my hand. As if I have never been afraid of losing, always walking in front of a person, far away. Go a long way before looking back and then continue walking. He slowly grew old in silence, and I grew older through his white hair. Quiet sometimes is a confrontation. He does not love me, in my opinion, because he will only drop my large palm on my face every time I have a bad grade in the exam. Smile.