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No. 52, Huangcaowa
General Fiction黄草洼五十二号
Li Tinghua
Courtyard No. 52, Huangcaowa, Tongjialiang Kuang, Kouquangou, is where I lived in my childhood. Huangcaowa is the name of a street. As the name suggests, it is a depression. There is a small river that is not very wide flowing in the depression. The river water is mainly wastewater pumped out from the mines. It is intermittent and has a turbid color. The small river is sandwiched under a small hillside. Up and down the slope are scattered houses, and there are two winding paths up and down. Every morning, workers going to work and students carrying schoolbags to school, men, women, old and young, come and go. Countless people walk through the two paths. Not far away is a railway that transports coal from the mine. There are often trains dragging green passenger cars or black coal cars passing by with white smoke, leaving behind a piercing cry.
Courtyard No. 52, Huangcaowa, Tongjialiang Kuang, Kouquangou, is where I lived in my childhood. Huangcaowa is the name of a street. As the name suggests, it is a depression. There is a small river that is not very wide flowing in the depression. The river water is mainly wastewater pumped out from the mines. It is intermittent and has a turbid color. The small river is sandwiched under a small hillside. Up and down the slope are scattered houses, and there are two winding paths up and down. Every morning, workers going to work and students carrying schoolbags to school, men, women, old and young, come and go. Countless people walk through the two paths. Not far away is a railway that transports coal from the mine. There are often trains dragging green passenger cars or black coal cars passing by with white smoke, leaving behind a piercing cry.