星期六的早晨07

 

沿著狭窄的鹅卵石街道走著。

 

雪，柳絮般的拨开堆积的云层，伴随透明的水珠，缓缓飘落。

鹅卵石间的缝隙被水填满，雪如姜饼屋上的糖霜铺满街道。

 

我的靴子被雪沾湿，靴子内部的绒毛抢著与水相拥，纠结成束。水钻探毛袜的每一个空隙。

我的脚已湿透，趾尖渐渐僵硬麻木。

我想像著我的双足失去血色的模样──平滑的脚背藏著萎缩的血管，皮肤冷如白骨，连趾甲也变得晦暗无光。

 

街灯温暖的鹅黄光芒没有带来任何温度。

 

我吐出一口气，他们随即在空气的冷冻下化成一缕浓厚的白烟，参杂著几片冰霜。

 

 

好冷……

 

The Saturday morning 07

 

Along the narrow street of pebble stone.

 

Snow, catkin-liked move clouds away , floating down slowly with transparent globule.

Water fit in fractures of pebble stones. Snow cover the street as if the icing of gingerbread house.

 

My boots are wet with snow, and the fur inside the boots rush to embrace the water, tangle. Water drills every single gap between two wool of my woolen stocks.

My feet have drenched. Toes become rigid and numbness.

I imagine my feet anaemic in hue. Smooth instep hide wither blood vessels, skin clod like the bone of the dead, and nails also become dark and gloomy.

 

Warm goose-like light of Streetlights do not bring any temperature.

 

I exhale a breath, they transfer to a wipe of white smock immediately, and mix with some piece of frosts.

 

 

So cold……