Chapter 2 travel book

The idea of ​​the game comes from a series of fantasy novels by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges.I think that a person with a name like this will naturally become a writer who writes a novel like a labyrinth.Because of the fascination with books and libraries that often appear in Borges' novels, I decided that someday I would write a work with a book as the protagonist.The story of this book is completely close to the state of mind of every reader holding the book, and at the same time, it will be adapted into different appearances in accordance with the plot of the story.The book has traveled through the hands of different readers for thousands of years.Although this idea is not original, but when I actually set out to write it, it made me enjoy it.Writers are always racking their brains to write novels of various themes.However, their real ideal may not be to write a hundred books, but to complete a novel that can touch the heart of a certain reader and awaken the reader, right?While bestsellers are a joy to behold, such books are the true aspirations of writers.By the way, I've never written a fantasy novel about swords and sorcery, I'll write one someday.

The book does not know when he was born. I still remember that a long time ago, it used to be just to tie the leaves together.At some point, it became a booklet bound with handwritten paper.Books are constantly changing in response to each era, traveling in the hands of human beings, and have spent hundreds and thousands of years. Today, the book takes on the appearance of separate volumes in different formats, and the cover is a clear sky full of morning glow, as if glowing from the depths of printing.The thickness of the book should not exceed 300 pages. At the moment, it is lying on an uncommon bench next to the dim railway passage, silently illuminating the surroundings, waiting for someone to appear.

At eleven o'clock at the end of the rush hour of commuting, the man came with heavy steps.He lost his job a year and a half ago. On this day, he also went to the employment agency to check the information on recruiting middle-aged and senior employees.Job opportunities are few and far between.A job advertisement, dozens of people playing online games applied, and the only hope left in their hearts was gradually shaken with a gradually frayed voice in these eighteen months.The severance fee is also almost used.The man glanced at his toes to the corner of the bench. (There is actually a book here.)

Did someone forget it?After living in poverty, the man never bought a book.Among the hurried urban crowd, no one noticed the book that was discarded here.The man sat on the bench, picked up the book with the morning dew cover, and casually flipped through it. The first fifty or sixty pages were all blank. It was a strange book. When he continued to flip through it, he found that the words floated on the white paper, like a fog gradually dissipating. Could it be that the eyes had an illusion just now, so that they thought there were no printed words on it?He turned it back in disbelief, and found that the first line of words was neatly printed there.

That afternoon, with nothing to do, the man began to read the book.The protagonist of the story is an office worker who was laid off by the company, an hour, an hour and a half.The man continued reading obliviously, not even noticing that the book in his hand had nearly doubled in thickness. If you continue to read, you may encounter the rush hour in the evening. The man put the book in his old briefcase, boarded the down tram, and was about to go home and continue reading. In the days that follow, the man lives in the climactic world of the book's unemployed protagonist, who struggles to find a new job.Although the man stayed at home all day and did not go out to look for a job, the expression on his face was brighter than it had been a year and a half ago. Even the man's wife was surprised by the change in her depressed husband.

On Monday of the following week, the man put on the white shirt he brought back from the laundry, put on a new tie, and left the house early in the morning.The book was in his briefcase, and the man felt that the story had saved him.During the period of indulging in the fictional world, his spirit gradually lifted, and he finally returned to this world again.This is the magic that can only be felt by people, people who read this book.Maybe he will encounter pain in the future, but the man feels that this book seems to have brought him enough strength to bear the pain. The man slanted the book on the swing in the park in the commercial street.For some reason, he felt that the book was waiting to meet a new owner.Perhaps it was the increasingly light and gray text that gave him this influence.Books bring men very precious things.Starting today, I will step into the ranks of job hunting again, and other people will continue to read this book.

The man gets up from the swing, takes one last look at the book on the swing board with peeling paint, and walks out of the urban park. (Because, the biscuit is dead.) The teenager was carrying a schoolbag and walked through the park with heavy steps.Rockery, climbing frame, seesaw and swings.The amusement equipment that I usually play with carelessly has become a meaningless monster.Biscuit is a miniature dachshund that has been inseparable from the boy since he was born.Seventeen years old is already a long life for a dog, but the boy still can't understand this, and he can't accept death.

The reason why I saw the book on the swing may be because through the tears, I only saw a soft light there.The teenager crawls through the fence, stands by the swing, and confirms the cover of the book, which shows a gray and white dachshund walking in an abstract green. (Same as a biscuit.) Seeing that the picture on the cover was exactly the same as the dead dog, the boy almost cheered. He picked up the book. It was a B5-sized horizontally elongated picture book. Although the content was only fifty pages, the cover was very thick. It's a little hard to get up. The boy sat on the swing and opened the picture book left by others.The picture book describes a dog's happy life.A young couple bought a puppy and loved the timid, belly-eating dachshund very much.The eldest son, who was born shortly thereafter, is like a brother to the dog and sleeps in the same bed at night.After countless springs, summers, autumns and winters, the dog and the boy have grown into irreplaceable friends.

However, dog time is not the same as human time.Dogs age several times faster than humans. One day, teenagers will have to say goodbye to dogs.When the dachshund died in the corner of the bed, held in the arms of the teenager, it had a contented expression on its face, goodbye, friend, I am very happy to be able to play with you. The young man was deeply attracted, and finished reading the book in one sitting, completely unaware that tears were streaming down his face.The boy thought: (This is the story of Biscuit and me. Could it be that someone wrote a book just for me?) The boy hugged the thin picture book to his chest with both hands and set off on his way home, reading it again before preparing dinner.That day, the teenager watched it again in the evening and again before going to bed at night.

This kind of life lasted for a week, and the pain of the dead biscuit in the boy's heart gradually faded.The boy will always be keen on this book until the voice of his once lively friend appears vividly before his eyes again. On the second Sunday after the teenager encountered the book, he followed his parents to an open-air coffee shop by the side of the main road, hesitating that he would carry the dachshund book with him at all times, so the cover was a little worn out and the corners of the pages were shattered. The wear turned black.When the pet shop sent a new puppy, the picture book that he loved so much has become no longer important.Because, this time the wirehaired miniature dachshund is too cute.

After brunch, the family got up and left.While the parents were checking out at the counter, the teenager stepped onto the spacious promenade first.There is an approach to the city, and beech trees line the gentle slope. The boy looked around. After confirming that no one was paying attention to him, he stood on tiptoe and gently placed the picture book on the beech branch that he had finally reached. The dark green book blends into the young leaves, which looks particularly pleasing to the eye.Numbers exist almost as if to decorate the book. "Xiaozhi, let's go." Hearing his mother's cry, the boy rushed down the ramp.He stopped suddenly a few meters away and looked back.Hey, what color is the cover of Little Biscuit's picture book?What can be seen between the swaying leaves is a warm pink, as if the sunlight shining through the leaves emits a warm glow. The boy hesitated for a moment, but continued to rush down the ramp.Because, Sunday just started.The boy disappeared down the far ramp, the only sound being the soles of his sneakers on the pavement. In such a sunny weather, to cry while walking, will definitely be laughed to death.It's just a lovelorn, it's ridiculous to cry on the street.Although she knew this truth very well, blood flowed from her torn heart. The other party is an untrustworthy man.Why are bad men so fatally attractive?Love is so ironic.Walking up the usual ramp, the young woman couldn't help laughing and crying as she recalled making the same mistakes over and over again so far. At this time, the woman saw a pink book on the branch of the street tree, like a beautiful decoration in a boutique.The warm color made the young woman stretch out her hand involuntarily. Under the sun, she looked at the pages of the book with tearful eyes.The words on the white paper jumped.Attracted by the storyline of unraveling the mystery of love that belongs only to Ji Ji, young women begin to read his book.