Chapter 22 about wandering

I have always believed that wandering is a great realm, whether it is about the feet or the heart. I have always liked the plot of Fusang Ronin in martial arts novels very much. It is not Hari, but I am sensitive to the word Ronin. My netizen KK has been to many places, and he always set out on the road with his backpack on his back, wandering all the way and watching all the way.He told me that the snow in Tibet is very white and arrogant, and the bells in Suzhou are very thick and distant.Fog hidden Xiahong.Evening drum and morning bell. Once he asked me if you have been to Emei, I happily said that I have been, we first took the car and then took the cable car directly to the Golden Summit.We lived in a five-star hotel and enjoyed the heating, and took a lot of photos the next day. KK said that he climbed up with his feet, lived in many temples along the way, took a bath in the mountain spring, and almost caught a cold from the cold.When I listened to him, I felt that the oxygen around me became thinner and thinner.After listening to him, I felt really tacky and disgusting.I vomited in a mess.

From that moment on I thought joining a travel agency was the stupidest thing possible.A large group of people were called around by the tour guide, like an aunt leading a kindergarten child.The aunt asked: Is it beautiful here?The children said good-beautiful-beautiful-oh! It's really tacky and classy. There was a time when I was very fascinated by Sanmao.Not for anything else, just for the nervousness of running to the desert alone.At that time, it was my biggest dream to marry a woman like Sanmao and travel far together.But it hangs so high above my head that I have to look up, making my neck ache and knowing: it's out of reach.

Later, I often sat in the coffee shop opposite the Xiqin Guild Hall and looked at the bustling street through the floor-to-ceiling windows.Because here is the place with the most travelers. I hid behind the glass, peacefully looked at the people carrying luggage outside in the thick and smooth aroma of coffee, and imagined that the southern accent and northern tone permeated the entire sky.Occasionally provide my meager strength for foreigners.Their questions are usually very simple, nothing more than where is there a toilet, where can I buy tickets, where is there a hotel and so on.So even though my English is very poor, I can handle it.

Generally, after they accept the help, they will say thank you and take out a wad of money, and I always smile and shake my head.Then their eyes will be very bright, and the corners of their mouths will turn up, showing beautiful white teeth. It's not like thumbs up and OK like in the newspaper. A college student named David once gave me a tapestry he bought in Xinjiang.I hung it on the wall above my computer when I got home.Now I'm looking at it when I'm typing.In the tapestry there is sand mixed in, desert sand.My mom tried to wash it off and I swore I would die.Because it has the taste of desert that I yearn for.It disappears after washing.

At the risk of digressing, I wrote all the above nonsense about dealing with foreigners in order to draw out this tapestry, and to draw out this tapestry to show that I am crazy about vagabonds to a certain extent. I once said that if one day I am rich or I have no money at all, I will start wandering.The deskmate said: Then you are either a mobile treasury or a wandering beggar.After speaking, he shook his hair, looking handsome or pretending to be handsome.Every time I use irony to say: handsome oh handsome oh so handsome oh.And he always uses "there is no most handsome but more handsome" to self-effacing or self-boasting.He is calmer than me, more realistic than me, and better at rational thinking than me. In short, he is more like a person than me.

The most he said to me was: Don't hang in the air all day. But the land far away is always a kind of hot stamp to the soles of my feet.I am determined. live elsewhere.This is written for me and my wanderlust. About money I have an ambiguous relationship with money.We are lovers, I love her and she loves me. As I write this, I look around and breathe a sigh of relief that no one is paying attention.Now that it's safe I continue writing. The teacher said that it is beautiful and lovable to use "she" on inanimate things, such as the motherland.If the teacher sees me calling brother Kong Fang "she", then his expression will probably be very exciting, right? I feel like I suddenly become very bad.

I love money, there's no need to hide it.I got acquainted with a magazine and posted some sour articles on it, and then sat at home waiting for the payment. Money also seems to favor me.When I was working as a radio writer in the summer vacation, my net worth was 25 yuan per thousand words.When I left at the beginning of school, the director asked me to stay and said: How about 50 thousand characters?Because at that time my show had already started to catch fire. The days after school started were uneventful.Occasionally, a classmate asked me if I liked the program about campus folk songs, and I said boldly: I like it, it is really a good program.Nobody knew I made that show.

From then on, I knew that not going to college would not necessarily starve to death.But I still moved steadily towards Fudan along the trajectory drawn by my parents, and at the same time I was very relieved-life with a back road is always happy and unrestrained. I once learned flower arranging and pottery, and the original purpose was also so that I would not starve to death in the future.But the fast-paced life in high school made that memory very faint and blurry.Until that day when a girl asked me what the black mandala flower meant, I blurted out: It represents unpredictable death and love.She said how do you know so much?So I remembered that I had learned flower arranging.

I used to be able to easily recite the story of flowers, but at the time I thought it was very interesting.If neither the sender nor the recipient knows, then white chrysanthemums can also appear between lovers.When I said this, the whole room laughed and said I was vicious.But now when I try hard to recall that period of laughter, it becomes very blurred, like a pencil drawing erased with an eraser, leaving only some mottled traces, and the low eyebrows are pleasing to the eye, which makes people sigh. I learned pottery after watching "The Love Between Humans and Ghosts", and the purpose is to chase after girls to show off more capital.

I once had a piece of pottery, very thin very thin, representing my highest level.Of course my teacher can make it thinner.I say "was" because I don't have any now.It shattered. like my life. And now I walk quickly with my schoolbag on my back every day, hoping to go home quickly.My life used to be colorful, but it failed to grow up with me and slowly move forward through time.It watched me go further and further during the locked time. live elsewhere.This is for me and my show My Flowers My Pottery. If there is anything left to say about it, forget it. Now I work hard to learn foreign languages ​​every day, drink Maxwell every day, think about Shanghai and Fudan every day, and I feel a dull pain in my heart.

I don't know if this kind of life is a kind of happiness, if it is, it is the best, if not, there is no way. As for my life here or elsewhere, I forgot a hundred years ago.