Because I couldn't afford a bicycle for a while, my father would walk for several kilometers to pick me up, and then take a bus home with me. It's the rush hour of work. Dad and I managed to get on the bus. I'm very excited. This is my first time to take the bus in the city. A moment later, I found a strange phenomenon: people looked back at our father and son from time to time, and a fashionable lady next to me still tightly covered her purse with her hand. When we passed the crowd, they all avoided it as if they were afraid of the plague. Even though I'm only seven years old, I get it all. I looked out of the car. The branches outside were all dry. There were only bare tree trunks left. The pedestrians all stepped up to go home early. However, at this time, I feel that the inside of the car is colder than the outside, which makes me shiver. I really want to find a crack to drill down. I dare not see my father, afraid to read the sad answer from his eyes.
我不懂,我的爸爸住的是较差的小屋子,吃的是最差的食品,然而他却建造出了这个城市的繁华,他用自己的泪水去搭建高楼大厦。可是为什么却还要忍受城里人那如刀割般鄙夷的目光,他们霹雳的目光让我仿佛置身于冰天雪地之中,接受寒风无情地在我的脸上,划出一道道伤口,任其淌血。
I don't understand. My father lives in a poor little house and eats the worst food. However, he has built a prosperous city. He uses his tears to build tall buildings. But why do I have to endure the scornful eyes of the city people? Their thundering eyes make me feel as if I am in the ice and snow. They accept the cold wind mercilessly in my face and draw a wound, leaving it bleeding.
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