“我爷爷小的时候,常在这里玩耍,高高的前门,仿佛挨着我的家,一蓬衰草,几声蛐蛐儿叫,伴随他度过了那灰色的年华。吃一串冰糖葫芦就算过节,他一日那三餐,窝头咸菜就着一口大碗茶。”伴一支小曲,翻开泛黄的解放前京城老照片,前门大街熙熙攘攘的人群,总像过节那样热闹,吵吵嚷嚷的吆喝声都能穿透照片,在耳 “When my grandfather was small, I often play here, high front door, as if next to my home, a pennant fade, howling a few children, with him spent the gray years. Eat a bunch of candied haws Even the holidays, he had three meals a day, Wotou pickles on a big bowl of tea. ”" With a small song, open the yellow before the liberation of capital photos, Qianmen Avenue bustling crowd, always as the festival as lively, noisy Shouting shouting can penetrate the picture, in the ear