In those days, one hid much else as well: grown men didn't embrace one another, unless someone had died, and not always then; you shook hands or, at a ball game, thumped your friend's back and exchanged blows meant to be codes for affection; once out of childhood you'd never again know the shock of your father's whiskers on your cheek, not until mores at last had evolved, and you could hug another man, then hold on for a moment,
曾经，兽皮是何样 成熟的男人的身上不会环绕此 除非有人逝去 并非永久，你颤抖的双手 或者，一场球赛，重重的摔在你朋友的背上 交流，打击，都是感情的代码 当你长大，你永远不会再次感受 你的脸颊被父亲的胡渣亲昵 随着你的成熟而消逝 你会拥抱另一个人，拥抱一会