My home, concealing a kind of knowledge.
我家，藏着一种学问。
Stitch, a gleam of, when grandmother is knitting sweater, always be very concentrated. Gentle breeze kiss, messy the hair silk of her silvery white, never cross the meticulous essence on her hand to allow one fine long hair of the movement in disorder however. "It is good that sweater is bought on the net directly! Need not bother you to often start work personally! " everybody often so persuade her, but she still is to hold to ego, do not wish to buy off-the-peg sweater, the sweater that thinks oneself are knitted with one's own hands is warmer. Postmeridian sunshine passes through window lattice, the shadow that knits chapped is aspersed in her shoulder head. Shallow crimson, Zhu Qing, bright red, dark green, gamboge... all sorts of good color cram her wool bag, also cram 15 my winters, she uses needlework to seam breathed and aeriform love closely, although just be ticked off slowly, carry slowly, but this is slow, also became a kind of knowledge.
一针，一线，外婆在织毛衣时总是很专一。微风轻拂，散乱了她银白的发丝，却不曾乱过她手上的细致精准动作的一分一毫。“毛衣直接在网上买就好啦！不用麻烦您老亲自动手！”大家常常这么劝她，但她仍是坚持自我，不愿去买现成的毛衣，认为自己亲手织的毛衣更暖和。午后的阳光透过窗棂，将皴皱的影子洒在她肩头。浅绛、褚青、嫣红、黛绿、藤黄……各种美好的颜色填满了她的毛线袋，也填满了我的十五个冬天，她用针线将无声无形的爱密密缝起，虽只是慢慢地勾，慢慢地挑，但这慢，也便成了一种学问。
Brushstroke, brushstroke, mom is very serious also when handwritten input information, the mirrorring her solely furrow of mobile phone screen gradually dark face, of setting sun be flushed with drink red caught Shan Qiangwei, person keeps mum the finger tip of ceaseless movement, night, copy is like the translucent Chinese ink oilpaper that roll out, little cuts the vague impression that gives mother to come. "Direct hair speech is good! Handwritten and honest too slow. The brother often says so, but mom always is jiggle move head, show quite not the expression of approve of. "Slow better! Can heavy the flavour that next hearts will come to experience a character. " often think of reach this, I think of again when the song of a riddle about a character or word that mom teachs me: "1.1 horizontal stroke is long, buccal word centrally... " , that casts aside one right-falling stroke, delimit slow days, delimit slow mood, this is slow, also became a kind of knowledge.
一笔，一画，妈妈在手写输入信息时也很认真，手机屏幕的光映着她的皱纹渐深的脸，落日的酡红染遍了山蔷薇，徒留妈妈不停动作的指尖，夜，仿若铺开的半透明的墨油纸，一点点剪出妈妈的影子来。“直接发语音就好啦！手写实在太慢了。弟弟常这样说，但妈妈总是轻摇着头，显出一份颇不赞同的神情。“慢更好！能沉下心来感受文字的味道。”每每思及此，我便又想到儿时妈妈教我的字谜歌：“一点一横长，口字在中央……”，那一撇一捺，划慢了时光，划慢了心境，这慢，也便成了一种学问。
One word, , I also am learning the about with experienced adult, careful, meticulous ground chant, autumn of the tip of a twig, night, small cool, I am leaning on setting sun, accompanying samite article, in the character leisurely roams. "You are read too slow, we are whole book is read quickly! " side side is friends often " sneer at " , but I also laugh only and pass. Look in me, the wool needle that that character is grandmother is incompact not slow; That poetry is the rhythm of mom finger tip, emphatic, and the page in my hand, turn over a Zhen Yunchong, all change be like to look all right all right bland, the character of dark however unripe billows. Of the outside all and Bacchic with bright shout to resembled be being filtered by one layer upon layer filter paper general, the rest of is dense only the light book in air is sweet. Outside the window, a few star the dot shines before the flower, be nocturnal Hei Moyun when, star is lazy in sky the expression that sleep by downstair heavy traffic scene foil particularly innocent and lovely, I laugh leisurely and comfortably, open a book slowly again, within has the verse of an afford for thought: "Horse of person idle car is slow, lu Yaoxing Yi Ci. " although journey is far, although car horse is slow, but as long as hardheaded, have the day that attends past stars sea eventually, this kind slowly reading habit is so deep that reading habit my grandmother and mom pass really, this is slow, also became a kind of knowledge.
一字，一句，我也学着大人老成的模样，仔仔细细，一丝不苟地诵读，杪秋，夜，微凉，我倚着斜阳，伴着锦绣文章，在文字中悠悠徜徉。“你读得太慢了吧，我们整本书都快读完了！”耳边是朋友们经常的“嘲讽”，但我也只一笑而过。在我看来，那文字便是外婆的毛线针不紧不慢；那诗歌就是妈妈指尖的节奏，抑扬顿挫，而我手中的书页，翻起阵阵云涌，皆化为了一行行看似平淡无奇，却暗生波澜的文字。外界的所有喧闹与熙嚷都像被一层层滤纸过滤掉了一般，余下的只是氤氲在空气中的淡淡书香。窗外，几点星儿点闪在花前，正是夜黑无云之时，星星在空中偷懒睡觉的神情被楼下的车水马龙之景衬托得尤为天真可爱，我闲适地笑了笑，又慢慢地打开一本书，里头有句耐人寻味的诗：“人闲车马慢，路遥星亦辞。”路途虽远，车马虽慢，但只要脚踏实地，终有赴往星辰大海之日，这种慢慢阅读的习惯深得我外婆与妈妈真传，这慢，也便成了一种学问。
Do not no hurry unbearably, incompact not slow, slow work yields fine products, this knowledge, hide in my home, hide in my heart, tibet is composed in that bit " slow " , read " love " in rhythm. Do not know, can you ever discover deny?
不慌不忙，不紧不慢，慢工出细活，这学问，藏在我家里，藏在我心里，藏在那点写作“慢”，读作“爱”的节奏里。不知，你可曾发现否？