我就在那栋房子里长大的。
I grew up watching my mother complete that house from the rocks she'd lifted from the creek and cement she mixed in a wheelbarrow-cement that today still bears her handprints.
在我成长的过程中，我见证了母亲用从小河里拣来的石头和在独轮车里搅和的水泥盖好那座房子——直到今天，她的手指印还留在那水泥上面。
But by the time I handed him a pencil and asked him to draw the house he grew up in, he'd told me stories for two hours, in great and gory detail: the boxing that took him to sixteen.
不过当我递给他一只铅笔让他画出他童年成长的房子时，他给我讲了两个小时的故事，有很多血淋淋的细节：那个箱子承载他直到他16岁。
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