Chapter 10 Blue Iris in the Water - Read Baby Anne

I think / some things / can be forgotten / some things / can be remembered / some things / can be willing / some things / have been powerless / I love you / this is / my catastrophe That day I read in a magazine that Yu Jie said that female writers have three peaks in writing novels, one is Zhang Ailing, the woman who played the end of the world; the other is Wang Anyi, the slender and delicate woman; I forgot what Yu Jie said about Annie Baowei, but I'd love to know.Because I want to see how an extremely rational man evaluates an extremely emotional woman.I think it should be very interesting.

I think I like Anne, but sometimes I actively refuse.Because Annie always gave me big swathes of the void of being caught off guard and the barrenness of inner displacement.I don't think that's what I should take at my age.So I refuse. But many times I need some sharp and small pains to resist the numbness that roars in my life. As long as you read with the same attitude, we can comfort each other. But after comforting each other, there is even greater loneliness. Before meeting Annie, I was a sunny child, and after I met, I was still the same, but the other side of Gemini was just a little bit ready to move.I know that I will never be able to exile myself like Anne-exile, yes, exile.I am an obedient and good boy. I smile decently in front of strangers, wear clean clothes, and write some clean words.Annie to me is like a blue iris blooming in water, an illusion in life.When the illusion comes, we enter through the two entrances of time and meet each other. When the illusion disappears, we bid farewell.Annie is still the same laid-back but beautiful woman, and I am still the good boy who is studying hard to prepare for the university entrance exam, nothing has changed.

It's like a ronin hides in an abandoned house on a rainy day, builds a fire, and then the next day the rain stops, the fire goes out, and the ronin continues on his way.The abandoned house did not change the direction of the ronin, but the ronin would remember a rainy night when he kept warm with a fire in an abandoned house. The Ronin would be grateful for the fire, and I would be grateful for Anne. I remember a year ago when I was in Taochengke—the bookstore I wrote about—it was raining, and it was also spring, but the spring was cold, and the raindrops fell on the tall floor-to-ceiling glass windows along chaotic tracks.The blue book is placed in a prominent position alone, standing alone like Anne.

Anne said that on the cover of the book, the woman in a white cotton dress made a lonely gesture, so she accepted the cover design. What impressed me the most at that time was the ambiguous blue in the writing, which revealed a pale, trance-like feeling. I am a person who is sensitive to color. A color is destined to be a prisoner for a person, and we are doomed.I like white, a bit pure and innocent, like a wounded and wronged child.Later, I learned from Xiao Xu's article that whiteness is a kind of brokenness and inner displacement. "White has intense enthusiasm, but it is easy to be destroyed." And Xiaojiezi likes blue, pure and bright blue, bluer than any clear sky wall.And Xiaobei likes red, she said she likes the bright and warm feeling.

And little A likes black, and there is no reason. "Black is restrained, gloomy, and elusive. Many people with wounds only wear black clothes. Because it is not easy for others to see the pain." For a while, I looked very gloomy and felt empty in my heart.I keep dreaming that I'm standing in a huge empty parking lot looking around blankly. This state makes me panic. Sometimes when I walk on the street and suddenly see blue iris in a flower shop or a reproduction of Van Gogh's blue iris in a boutique, I think of Anne, the woman who writes alone in the dark.She wrote the words on the lake, and the hallucinations in the water appeared and disappeared at the same time.

For a long time, urban life has been absent in contemporary literature for a long time, so Anne came, with her gloomy and glamorous words, which also brought wounds and pain to people.Between the lines of Anne's words, we can see a large number of internally displaced people with empty eyes, lonely gestures, and lonely faces.All the homeless wanderers are floating in the post-modern concrete forest, waiting for the end of the world and accepting their fate.And the love described by Annie gradually turned into a shining dagger in the night. She seems to want to use love to fight against the huge loneliness and indifference in the post-industrial age.

Annie is a person who likes to travel, and so do I. I once said that my life is drifting from one prosperity to another prosperity or desolation. Strange people in strange cities always give me small but profound touch.I like to walk through unfamiliar cities, to see the beautiful camphor trees or sycamore trees or other tall trees on both sides of the road in that city, to see a few old ladies with silver hair sitting in the yard making pickles, and to see a young man leading Walking a young woman through a busy street, looking at several people in red collars The elementary school students in towels stand obediently on the side of the road waiting for the traffic lights, watching the scorching sun smash into the glass exterior walls of skyscrapers in summer, and the lonely snowflakes flying into the deep courtyards with white walls and blue tiles in winter.

What impressed me the most was that I stayed one night in a temple on the Golden Summit of Mount Emei. I couldn’t sleep at night, so I got up wrapped in a blanket and leaned against the window to listen to the sound of snow falling outside.Clear and gentle.At that moment, I felt that the world was empty, sixteen years of time were hovering quietly outside the window, and I heard my youth humming a little song.Time is like flowing water. The night before New Year’s Eve last year, I was also in a wooden attic in Shanghai listening to the sound of snow falling outside the window. I’ve heard people say that Shanghai has the loneliest snow scene in China.Sitting on the bed with a blanket in my arms, I thought that I might be able to see such a snow scene tomorrow.But the snow stopped after a while.The next day was sunny, Shanghai washed away the long-standing indifference and hustle and bustle, large and small red lanterns popped up on the street, large groups of children in red padded jackets ran on the street, the driver smiled and slowed down, this warm city Move me.And I'm going to fly home, and I finally realized what kind of mood a person wandering outside during the Chinese New Year.And the warm and stretched smiles of father and mother appeared in front of my eyes.I know, they have a table full of dishes waiting for me to go home.

Really, many times small happiness can easily overwhelm us, but we often ignore it out of numbness. Xiao Xu said that she likes to meet someone in a hurry on the train, with strange smiles on strange faces, and the fleeting warmth between each other.She said that when she was alone on the train late at night, wrapped in a blanket and leaning against the window, looking at the large black fields and hillsides outside the railway tracks in the night, as well as the occasional rural lights that appeared sporadically, her heart was empty, but she was calm and peaceful. peaceful. Calm and peaceful.This is something we can use to soothe our wounds.

And Anne's travel is a wandering, exile.She always threw herself on the train, and then without saying a word, looked at the platforms that approached and disappeared one by one, the silent green mountains outside the window, and the faces of passing trains passing by.Annie likes this flowing state of life, even though she knows and stubbornly believes that life is just an empty cycle. I have been wandering between different cities and villages, without purpose, only moving forward.It is very important to me to see the vast sky, breathe fresh air, and see strange faces.That is the experience of life.Only when a person has been to faraway places and met many people can he let himself realize what peace and composure are.Because what is infinitely extended and developed is actually the space in our hearts.

Many people live in the cracks of the city. They don't know that life has a lot of suffering and sweetness, which deserves our persistence, tolerance and cherishment. When I was flipping through the flower score that day, I saw a blue iris, which read: Represents the dissociated and broken passion in fate, exquisite beauty, but fragile and perishable. So I thought of Annie. For a long time, Anne has been a painful woman in the eyes of her readers, a woman who walks at night with wounds and clothes.Her words always take away the oxygen around people, and then know that people are suffocated due to lack of oxygen. That day, when I was reading Annie's new prose under the banyan tree, writing about her working appearance and her health and exhaustion, I suddenly discovered Annie's bright side, which was a great surprise.A netizen commented: Annie, I'm glad to see your sunny appearance, put aside those cold and sharp words, as long as you are happy, we will all be happy. I was moved, for that unknown friend. Happiness is not just a moment when fireworks are on, happiness is eternal. To Annie.Send it to all my friends too.