(网上大饥荒到底死了多少人的辩论，勾起我久巳遗忘的记忆。)

我坐在一个小镇的饭馆里吃着饭，一个衣服褴褛的小孩站在桌子边眼巴巴地看着我一口口地将饭送到嘴里，她的眼睛里闪烁著饥饿的烈火，她的嘴不由自主地蠕动著。我平静地吃着我的饭，那个年头，这已是习以为常的事。

我是在为她勇敢地走向独立和人生而流泪吗？

我是在为我们相依为命共度的三年时光永远不再返回而流泪吗？

有笋未出土
中已含泪痕

经过了几十年人生的历程，我现在很难明白，面对著这孩子一双饥饿的眼睛，我怎么能平静地将饭吃下去？

我心里在问
“为什么那时候我没有一点恻隐之心？”

一个声音在回答：
“ 因为她不是你”

“想一想， 如果那个无助的孩子是我自己？”

“那么当她变成我时，对于她来说，你就是他。”

我们的不幸，可能就来自心里这一层薄薄的难以觉察和走出的障碍。

(The debate online how many people died in the famine has evoked memories of my long forgotten.)

I was sitting in a small town restaurant eating a meal. A child with a ragged dress stood at the table and watched me enjoying food mouth by mouth. Her eyes sparkled with hunger fire, her mouth cannot help chewing. I am eating my meal calmly, which was the norm in those years.

Unearthed bamboo boots
Has a tear stain in

After decades of life, it's hard for me to understand how I could eat quietly in the face of the hungry eyes of this child.

I am asking:
"Why didn't I have any compassion then?"

A voice answered:
"Because she's not you"

"Think about it, if that helpless child is you?

"So when she was me, to her, you would be her."

Our misfortunes may arise from a thin layer of obstacles in our hearts that are hard to perceive and overcome.