| 摘 要： | I watched her draw while the dust from the country road billowed around the passenger seat window. She held the red felt-tipped pen in her slight hand like it was an extension of her self. Small squares of yellow memo pad paper were scattered in her lap. It was all I could scrounge up in hopes of keeping a four-year-old sufficiently occupied for the drive to her grandmother's house. Red suns, smiling faces and sunflowers bobbed gently with the moving car. Her face was somber and serious. I c…
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