Nothing happened

Nothing happened

I was a lonely child. When I was a kid, I used to stay in one place very far away, where watched little friends to play, and they will not see me, because I always hid in other people sight. I always do not like talking to strangers, from the time I came to this village, the village which are all strangers, I began to silence does not speak, and no one said. Gradually, we all thought I was dumb, but I will speak, I just do not want to say, even an uncle did not know.
When I was five years old came to this remote village, the year I remember particularly cold winter, the snow day after day, I almost thought I would have frozen to death, and that I particularly remember that distant time South of the warm and humid, although I do not like those years I have experienced things, but I really do not want to stay in a cold place.
I'm from the far south to the warm damp places more distant cold north of the town. Before that I had not seen this so-called uncle, I only know that he is the only brother of my mother. But my mother, that I do not like a woman to live in this cold place, but she was out of here, died in the far south of the city, always stayed at the wet and warm environment inside . Sometimes I really envy her, could have been like to stay I like that place. Year she and a man died in a car accident together, the man is not my father. I do not know who my father is, I think my uncle did not know, or he will not say: You're a wild species. I do not want to identify what, so I chose to no longer speak.
My uncle came home in third year, I started there in the post-col mountain cattle, because my aunt told me the only food to eat before work. But the cousin did not work but also have something to eat. At that time I do not know why he is still the choice to silence, but then I was thinking, if I was talking to her she would not be scared to death of the past, I still did not speak after all, a person holding cattle to go quietly the mountain. In that year, the cow has become my only friend, and I speak into every day, I fear that if it does not, and others speak, then I really can not speak.
Cattle in those days, when evening comes, I would be particularly sad, I began to think of my mother. Although I do not like her, but I began to miss her. That evening three years ago, she became a beautiful snow lotus, or so beautiful, but she was never the left, a white sheet to cover her body, that she left me The final impression. Now every time I see something white, are also afraid, because I would think it was my mother, but they end up leaving.
In the village, relying on the left side of the road in a small room, which is home to a lovely old man, long white beard told me that he is very old. Every time I see him, he will be stroking my head that the child good. I listened to would be particularly touched the verge of tears. Every time the old man would tell me the story, Journey to the story, I remember very clearly, because in that year of almost no people talking to me. I have always felt the old man is a particularly lovely old man, so in the first and his goodbye, I casually shouted, Grandpa. The strange thing is the old man did not show of astonishment, just nodded his head slightly toward me. Later, I learned that, everyone knows I will not speak, but they do not want to speak to me nothing more. Think of the age of eight years, even in front of my aunt cry, she will not be scared to death, I might still beating. Article willow remember the way the body pumping, a Road bruising almost all over the body, may be their own do not cry, her anger was changed to eliminate it, will cause only because it broke a bowl.<div