Chapter 25 Wandering in Kyoto

When I woke up this morning, I suddenly saw a golden ginkgo tree in front of the building.The early sun is shining, the morning breeze is blowing gently, and the golden leaves fall quietly one by one.It's already autumn, and a ray of coolness floats leisurely in my heart. How did this season come again without my knowing it?This should be the third autumn I have spent in Beijing. The time is really fast, it flies like the wind, and the three years of wandering suddenly turned into a few fallen leaves, drifting in the journey of my life. Just standing on the balcony like this, my mood hangs on the autumn scenery, a kind of emptiness that has never been seen before suddenly fills the air, and gradually merges into the morning light - autumn is here, this is a season of harvest, but I have nothing in my hands.I can't let go of the state of mind brought to me by the past seasons, although today is still a sunny and peaceful day.

There is a journey of wandering in life, which may be beautiful. Recalling the time in the southern country, the wanderings I once designed are colorful, and I walked on the journey of wandering unexpectedly, running for livelihood, accompanied by the lonely lamp The never-ending writing, the deep nostalgia that cannot be resolved, has already squeezed the last trace of romance from the soul.Is the color of life also dimmed? probably is. These days, I am working hard to write a long novel, and the title of the book is "Wandering in Kyoto", writing about me, about the people I know and don't know wandering in Kyoto, about our joy and pain, about our various troubles Adventures and setbacks, pursuits and longings.In this way, nearly a thousand days and nights are lined up and counted, and the truth of life is highlighted in the soul by salvaging the joys and sorrows in the vanished traces.Perhaps, such writing is more dignified and sincere.Perhaps, such a life will be less pretentious and pretentious.

How many colorful dreams have there been. I went downstairs, walked into the autumn scenery, bent down to pick up a golden fallen leaf, and held it lightly in the palm of my hand-this is the last glory of life, I think.People will eventually go to this step, and there will be glorious moments in the end. At this time, is it too early to expect harvest?Why did I wander in front of such a small scenery?Why be sad in the wind of the season?If fate is an invisible giant hand, why not hold it while running? I tucked a golden leaf into my book and marked it as the Autumn 1996 collection.The moment I closed the pages of the book, I suddenly remembered that when I was a child, I naively put cypress leaves in the old textbooks, thinking that after a long time, it would become a piece of silk. I have never got such a piece of silk.However, this does not become a reason for me to deny that time, I still appreciate that kind of ignorant innocence, oh oh, we all have to go through such a time and space.So, I don't care too much about today.

Wandering people can no longer turn back. Go to the end?of course.There is a dream like this, driving an open-top jeep, going straight from north to south, crossing from east to west, equipped with cameras, video cameras, laptops, satellite phones and a Swiss army knife, and throwing youth on the wandering road very easily and happily, In the wind, in the rain, in the snow...in the scorching sun, leave the songs on the road, and take the possible poetic and picturesque feelings into your heart. But still can't get on the road for the time being.Now I still have to go back to the room, facing the autumn scenery outside the balcony, and use my ten fingers to walk on the keyboard, Dada is like a crab - even more rampant.This autumn seems to surprise me, quietly and quietly approaching-ho!With a loud shout, I was caught off guard.Writing a novel is originally a free choice, so why do you feel so forced by a whip behind your back?Why do I always feel a swishing coolness on my back?Why not smash the computer angrily and go back south?Why do you still have the sound of river waves echoing in your ears when you are far away from the southern country in the dead of night, making people miss you for a long time?

This is fate? Maybe I misjudged autumn, which is the most beautiful season in Beijing.In this season, the sky is clear, the sun is bright, the flowers are blooming, the leaves are golden, and the vast northern sky is refreshing.Is it me—too fragile?Then wait for the No. 4 bus, take it to Tiananmen Square, and then go up to the tower, stand on the tower and wave your hands at the square, and recite silently three times: The Chinese people have stood up from now on!At this time, I will inevitably feel a surge of emotion, passion, and absorb incomparable courage and confidence. Beijing, Beijing, Beijing, the ancient and ever-new Beijing, a person wandering in Kyoto with an accent wants to say to you in autumn: Come and have a bottle of Erguotou!