Walking around a neighborhood in San Francisco, on a street corner more than 30 blocks from home, I saw a peculiar box, twice as large as a letterbox, painted fiery red, propped up by a thick wooden pole, with a glass door. Divided into two layers, lined with books. This obligation "book point", even it, I saw a total of two before and after. The owner of the box is a book fan and philanthropist. He or she finds a good place to go from the books he or she has read, and in addition to letting passers-by borrow them, they can also communicate with each other, and anyone can put their own books in.
It is impossible not to marvel at the thoughtful design of unknown well-wishers - there are benches under the cypress trees in front of the box. Seeing it, fatigue comes up, well! It's time to read. Open the box, browse the spine, and casually pull out a hardcover book and turn it over. The faint shade of the trees, the crisp chirping of the birds, the rough grunting of the pigeons. The fog drifted from the other side of the sea— and the aphorism automatically jumped into view. Fortunately, at this moment, the mood is peaceful.
Not seeing a person around me made me feel a little sorry. With that in mind, a white man stepped over. Fifty or sixty years old, looks really good! The handsomeness of his youth still leaves traces. I remembered that I had just met him three blocks away, nodded to each other, and made a measured smile. I said to him, hello, meet again. He didn't notice that I was holding a tome in my hand, so I wasn't reading a book; if I did, he would stare at the cover and talk about reading a book. I sat and he stood. Worried that he could not find a topic, he spoke, and suddenly felt relaxed.
He pointed to an old bus at the corner of the street and discussed it with me. Just as he did not pay attention to the book, not far away, an extended bus turned off the fire and stopped in the middle of the street in a big way, and I ignored it. It was "double parking" and you had to take the ticket. But this is a residential area, and unless someone calls, the three-wheeled motor vehicle of the card scribe will not appear. He said, "You say, is it used to carry passengers, or to live people?" I squinted and said, "Live, see?" Even the space for the suitcase between the tires was nailed to the ground with wooden planks. He agreed. "The water pipe is used to water the flowers and grass?" I asked, pointing to the faucet that reached from the roof to the window. He said it was for showers. I nodded. People who call the car their home can only take a bath in the open air outside the car. We also talk about solar panels on the roof. As for the interior of the car, which is obscured by thick curtains, it is difficult to depict. How long has it been parked here? I asked again. "I'm afraid it's been more than two hours." "Eighty percent are waiting for a parking space, and when the two cars parked on the side of the street drive away, they take up and park for a week," he said. I said, "Residents here should call the police, and according to the law, vehicles are parked on the streets of residential areas, and they cannot sleep in them after 10 o'clock at night." ”
"Forget it, don't push people in a hurry. People who use cars as a house are not very economically good, and friends who have business dealings with me have come forward for this kind of thing, and they are taught a lesson by the owner of the car, and they are miserable. ”
He brought up business, and I asked him which line of work he was in. He pointed a block away: "The one who sells shutters." "That shop I remember. I joked with him: "My house is being renovated, I want to buy a batch of shutters, can I offer a discount?" He said simply: "No, my three children are going to college, and they have to pay rent, and the burden is too heavy." I was shocked, laughing secretly that he couldn't speak, and if he wanted to change to someone else, the answer must be: Okay, you come to the store to discuss well." But immediately admired his bluntness. Looking at it again, the "bus" that did not even have the pause light was still lying on its stomach, and the driver did not know where to go. The old white man resigned.
I put the book back in the box and went home. Passing through the densely packed street of shops, at the top of a vending box, there was a pile of newspapers that had not even been untied, and it was a free newspaper, and I went to get a copy every week. There are about 20 copies of this pile, and it is not difficult to speculate that the newspaper giver coveted to save trouble and threw it here. (Liu Huangtian)