Chapter 11 Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Today's flowers are better than last year's popularity, but it's a pity that next year's flowers will be even better. Who do you know? Lu Xun said: "However, I don't want to wander between light and dark. I might as well be silent in the dark." But Xu Wei said: "Love is like a flower that never blooms, and desire grows wildly like weeds." in the above two sentences.As a kind of gentle and beautiful hope, spring is like a cluster of flowers of love blooming in chaos.There is no stagnation, and there is no redemption. I know that in the next few cycles of the sun and the moon, the living things begin to grow.You can see the green, and you can see the life force growing at the geometric speed of the real thing.Soon this concrete fortress, once covered by rain's corpses, will be transformed into a TV set with replaced transistors—colorful purples and reds.Mornings without sunshine will never come again, nor will you have to listen to Irish dance music to fantasize about Bea's territory.The wild cats are all calling, so what are you waiting for?

However, just because a metal conducts electricity doesn't mean it can generate electricity.Similarly, spring can convey hope, but it does not mean it is hope.Where to find something so obvious? Lu Xun also said: "When I am silent, I feel full; when I open my mouth, I feel empty." When we were singing the sweetness of spring, a rain and snow gave my enthusiasm a blow.I ran in the traces of the night, holding back the rain's ridicule with dissatisfaction and powerlessness.They said: "Poor people, ideals and reality are enemies in different numbers!" When holding the dusty liquid camp in their hands, doubts filled their hearts: spring, is it here?The result is unclear.

However, spring is indeed beautiful, it makes people want to live. The "engineer" in elementary school would ask us to write a composition with the theme of "spring" every year at this time.I don't hate composition, but I hate the eyes of my peers, "spring is here, the trees are sprouting, and the grass is growing" and so on.At that time, I was thinking, is spring just a lot of vulgar festivals like wind, flowers, trees, grass, rivers and willow clothes?A lonely gesture of Chunhuo when we face the sun—the light is a bit dazzling; living in the little garbage left by the train track—there is a field next to it, and farmers are afraid of hurting the tender seedlings; even living in passing In the girl's smile - you are still fully armed with five or six catties of cotton.If someone happens to tell you in despair at this moment that he feels that his life is not as good as a stalk of wheat, then take him to see the wheat.

Using musical instruments to describe the four seasons, spring is the guitar, summer is the drum, autumn is the bass, and winter is the keyboard.Spring always leads to summer's uneasiness, autumn's depression, and winter's hypocrisy.Spring is a gorgeous fire that dies quickly, even in the cold north.It is not suitable to read Lu Xun's novels at this edge of light and shadow, let alone to calm down.Zhang Chu sang: "This is a season of love, and the air is filled with the smell of couples." But I think spring is not even suitable for love.What are you doing?Spring is more suitable for fantasy.People who live in fantasy are happy.Although it is easy to sneeze a loud sneeze at the sun in the air of fantasy.I recited some ancient prose and my favorite Yuan operas with unknown availability in the gap between affirmation and negation, and negation and affirmation.Listen to the Beatles.Smile and look at the green trees and yellow trees with a meaningless attitude, and the flowers bloom and fade, consciously elegant.

The clothes were dry, the dinner was cold, and none of them were surprised by the arrival of spring.The ice on the river surface has melted, and the water flows slowly or not.If you go ashore at this time, you will definitely fall. But we are still growing, growing up in such a depressing and magnificent spring breeze, and at the same time, there are wild grasses that I love. "Who will listen to the sound of flowers blooming at the moment of a season? Like a small flame, it burns with a 'wow' and wakes up your ears. The sound of life blooming is so fresh and refined, echoing in the soul Quiet courtyard."

In the early morning of cold autumn, I stayed at home depressed because of the drop in competition results.The pots of wild chrysanthemums on the balcony were blooming brilliantly, red and green, Yao, yellow, Wei and purple, as if a bit out of season.Thinking of the marathon-like training that lasted for more than a year, I tried my best to prepare, but in the end I was disappointed, and I am deceiving myself and others to say that it is not uncomfortable. "Is sister there?" An Jing's sudden visit from the neighbor's youngest daughter broke the silence in the room.I held her up, and those ethereal eyes made me feel distressed for no reason.When An Jing was young, she lost her eyesight due to a high fever, but she did not give up on life. Instead, she worked hard to use every sense to discover the beauty of life.She took a deep breath and sighed in surprise: "The flowers in your house are in full bloom, aren't they? They are so fragrant!"

"It suddenly bloomed today for some reason. It's so gorgeous that it probably won't last long." She sniffed like an addict: "Then let's go there. Before the flowers fade, I want my sister to listen to the sound of flowers blooming." I was taken aback, covered my mouth and smiled: "Girl, where is the sound of flowers blooming? "Close your eyes, lean down, and listen carefully." After speaking, he dragged me to the balcony. We can't beat her, so we get closer to the flowers, close our eyes, and listen carefully. At the beginning, it was the wind that caressed gently, as if to kick off the concert that was about to shock the soul.The crisp birdsong receded, and the chaotic sounds of insects dimmed. I couldn't help but hold my breath.

Those pattering legends, twists and turns, lingering, began to stretch from the heartbeat at the bottom of the basin to the branches tenderly and sweetly.Among the criss-crossing branches, there are little green laugh lines oozing out.Laughter lines spread, spread, let the joyful feelings form a drop of clear note "pop", is it the shy white chrysanthemum? There is a hot and short "boom", which reminds me of the dry golden chrysanthemum;It's as bright and lovely inside and out... Finally, like a small flame, the flowers burst into flames with a "wow".As a result, the multicolored musical notes came out of their shells with a ding, and the gorgeous starting point was like a finger twisting around the edge of a string, and a hazy wisp of cooking smoke rose gently.The magnificence of life trembles gently, shaking the new eyelashes, making the miraculous eye waves flow clear and clear, trickling; Splendid in smearing, flamboyant in the joint of fragrance, flamboyant into thousands of colorful and crisp ballads!I put the footsteps of my ears very lightly, and spread the tentacles of my emotions long and long, quietly listening to the youth of life, how to nourish the vicissitudes of these four seasons!

The wind blows, the flowers dance, the wind stops, and the flowers speak.With my eyes closed, I can still feel the sunshine, and countless wild chrysanthemum petals churning on the sea like tiny waves.The more fascinated I am, the more I feel that the colorful fireworks are spreading in all directions, as if there is a kind of vitality that is constantly expanding.And you can hear the sound of flames, the sound of flowers blooming! I started to tremble slightly as I held Quiet's hand and my cold heart.I don't know what words to use to describe my feelings at this time.There is the sound of abundant flowers blooming in my ears, the gradually warming sweat in my palms, and the unobtrusive aroma mixed with the fragrance of earth rushing towards my face, my heart is full of the touch and strength brought by the tranquility and the sound of flowers.

"There is really a sound..." I was immersed in the sound of flowers blooming, and murmured uncontrollably. "Sister, did you hear that?" Quiet asked softly. "I heard it! The flowers bloom with a sound!" I opened my eyes full of surprise.In front of me, there is still the flourishing scene of flowers, but looking at it now, I no longer feel that they are blooming out of season, "I never thought that these ordinary flowers, when they are in full bloom, make such a vigorous sound." "Sister, you heard it: Even when ordinary flowers are in full bloom, they are still full of hope and enthusiasm, blooming vividly, so that blind children like me can feel the beauty of flowers blooming through listening. Because every year Years, years and years, the flowers are blooming like brocade, the leaves are like jade, the shyness of blooming at the beginning, the brilliance of being mature and enchanting, and the quietness of returning to the dust. They have no time to be sad, disappointed and depressed. They only know how to grasp every sunshine, rain and dew. Let alone people?" An Jing said, turning her head and staring at me with ethereal eyes, "Sister, you shouldn't be depressed because of a small competition failure. Auntie said, your performance in the competition is not satisfactory, I am sad It's been a day. I think it's time for you to listen to the sound of flowers blooming."

Once again, I stared at Jing Jing in surprise. How could she, who is blind, always be able to read my mind and lead me to a bright place just right? Yes, why do people have to be sad, disappointed and depressed? "Peach blossoms in spring, lotus blossoms in summer, chrysanthemums in autumn, and plum blossoms in winter, everyone's youth is a unique flower. You can't decide the degree of opening, but you can decide the way of opening, which will affect your future life The road." A failure in a competition is too small to even set off a cluster of humble waves in the long river of human growth.Because of countless challenges and competitions, just like a hidden reef in the turbulent waves, waiting for me all the time.If I am depressed and dejected alone, maybe I will touch a reef and sink into the abyss halfway; if I lose hope and shake off the sail of my dream, which gust of east wind should I watch to bring me to the other side of success? If you fail, one sad day is enough!Even flowers know, even quiet! "Quiet, maybe your eyes are blind, but your heart is clearer?" I looked at the girl in front of me. From touching the spring that year to listening to the flowers blooming now, the blind child Jingjing is quietly growing up in her unique way. Listening to the flowers bloom, let me hear the unyielding singing of life, let me feel the hope and strength contained in ordinary life, and let me know that the quietness has already bloomed into the most beautiful flower in the world.She brought me more than inexplicable touch?More than a strong shock?That is a kind of strength and hope for life! "Thank you. I'll be fine." I held her slender but strong hand tightly.Her smile was rippling and colorful. I remember writing in an essay, "Listen to the flowers blooming, that is the first note of the song of youth, and from then on you start to compose a beautiful symphony of destiny. After the flower season blooms to its fullest, it will be a golden autumn full of hope." Finally, together with An Jing, listening to the flowers blooming, feeling the power and hope of life, my heart is relieved. When I was packing my bag that day, I came across an old phone card.Just when I was considering whether to use the remaining denomination to make some calls, I suddenly found that it had been expired for several months.Think about it, this card has been with me for more than two years, and I have always forgotten its existence.It has been with me for so long in the most secret corner of my bag, as if my experiences, ups and downs, changes, and impermanence over the years are all watched and accompanied by me.I put the light green calling card back in my bag and let it continue its company.I suddenly thought, this phone card with a face value of only ten yuan, the meaning of its appearance in my life, is it a call or a kind of companionship? I don't know when it started, I gradually became greedy for old things and old things.I always feel that there are some extremely real and mysterious reflections on them. In that reflection, besides time, there is also me and my affairs.Newborn things and newly purchased items are beautiful, but there are always too many thin and sharp things, which make people caught off guard, overwhelmed, and unable to feel at ease, trust and remember.The beauty of old things requires a state of mind to be able to see them. Such a state of mind is like a hand rubbing pottery, grasping every tiny gap, every subtle texture, and every unseen ups and downs. , In order to pass it to the heart, to the memory in the heart.I don't know what kind of standpoint this represents for me to look at the world, or what kind of mentality or spiritual growth this represents, but everything has its eternal law and cycle, and I abide by everything in the world. If I walk with nature, then any position, mentality, growth and change I have belonged to me at that time, and they are enough to make me feel relieved and trustworthy. I have always stubbornly believed that there must be many stories on many unremarkable old objects. It may belong to one person or several people, but it will not belong to many people.I have also always stubbornly believed that some objects have souls, and they can really develop feelings after being with a person for too long. The greed for old things and old things is actually a part of my past and a certain state of existence that I once had. Or the attachment of a certain mood, even if you use them to see other people's things, you still have to use the reflection of others to see yourself.This self, standing in the dark in the door frame where the sun shines through, in the air that is close at hand but cannot be grasped, sings a song that I am familiar with and forgets, or slowly confides something that seems to be talking to myself. words, or just keep silent, but they will all look at me and overlap. I take care of anything that just enters my life.Things and I confront each other and respect each other as guests.This is the distance between thinness and sharpness.To this day, I still have this habit: All new books, new records, I absolutely cannot tolerate them being stained with a fingerprint, folded to a small footer, or stained in a tiny place.Any such new things will eventually have two types of results. One is to be used up, discarded, and completely forgotten. This kind of thing is considered to have left my life; of old things.Even with such carefully cared-for books and records, I know that one day, I will be able to stuff some of them into my bag, and start my journey with the bag containing them without worrying about the corners and wear.I can pull out that book to read at any time on the road, find that record to listen to, or just tuck them in wherever I can carry them afterwards.In a strange place, there is the book I just read before my pillow, and I fall asleep listening to that record.The next morning the sun woke me up, the book was still beside me, and the record was still spinning. Compared with people, the relationship between old things and oneself seems to be more tenacious and appropriate, and can stand the test of time.And this kind of relationship never has to worry about forgetting, just like me and the card that has been with me for more than two years, no matter when and where I think of it again, I can go forward side by side immediately, even in the temporarily forgotten During that time, they were never separated. Old things, I always think that more than half of the meaning of a person's life remains in them, and as time goes by, they occupy more and more positions, and the feeling becomes stronger.The feelings between old things and people must be related to old things.These things never need to be so important or profound, as long as they are usually remembered and missed.The greatness and profoundness of their significance will only remain in certain moments and fragments that people can feel. Not long ago, I was in Beijing with my sister to sort out the basement where the sundries were piled up, and I discarded a lot of things, because I felt that most of them were exhausted and invalid, and I was reluctant to throw them away for a while.In fact, they have already withdrawn from our lives, so there is no need to continue to stay.I think they should not belong to the old things. Whether it is old things or old things, their delineation does not need to strictly follow time.I can use a product for several years, ten years, or decades, until it is worn out and thrown away, and it is considered to be gone.A brand-new thing that is still displayed in the window is destined to be accompanied by the existence of the soul, so from the moment it is bought by me, it may be regarded as an old thing.The long and short time of companionship exists in a delicate small world, and determines a person's rules of judging old things and feelings with them.That's why I gradually discovered that in this world, some things can never become my own old things, and some things are born to be my own old things.Just like things, every day, every moment, as long as we are alive, things are constantly happening, and their value and belonging depend on such subtle feelings, which may include trust, dependence, greed, miss, etc. All the emotions that represent the state of our lives during that time. Because of feelings, people will be afraid of disappearing, but if the feelings are deep enough to a certain level, they will not be afraid of disappearing, so they have nothing to fear. Once when I was wandering around, I found a white porcelain cup in a beautiful hut.While scanning, he suddenly withdrew his gaze and focused on it.The extremely elegant and elegant white porcelain cup has very natural and fresh small carvings and painted textures on it. I just feel that this cup is so familiar. Holding it in my hand seems to have taken root from the fingertips and palms.At that time, I didn't hear the enthusiastic introduction from the shopping guide lady, but I just told her that I wanted to buy this cup.When I walked out of the small shop with such a white porcelain cup, I felt extremely happy and joyful.I have tried to imagine countless scenarios with it.In midsummer, use it to make a cup of sweet iced red bean paste. In winter, use it to make some hot coffee or milk and smell the hot air to warm your hands. When you sleep, it sleeps next to you. Sunshine, listen to the melodious birds chirping outside or the true and happy hawker cries, make tea with it while reading a book and put it next to smell the aroma, clean it carefully and wash every tiny place when you are bored Again...but none of that actually happened because I forgot about it when I got home, put it in some drawer, went around the kitchen and came back. Not long later, when I opened that drawer by chance, I saw it again. I remembered everything and my mood and state that day.When I rinsed it under the faucet and prepared to make tea, it suddenly split a crack, like a wound, and then my heart ached.I looked at it for a while in amazement and silence, and then decided to throw it away, because even if it didn't, I believed that sooner or later it would be reduced to pieces.I don't know if it counts as a farewell, but I still think about it often.And I have never regretted throwing it away. I have had feelings, events, and moods. All the things that should have happened have happened. The entire mission of this old thing has come to an end. It doesn’t matter to me whether I leave or not.It doesn't matter to calculate the length of the time you spend with me, and there is no difference between the day, the month, the month, and the year.This process has no regrets from the beginning to the end, but I am amazed that the acquaintance can be so impressive, when did the day become so long. For old things, we must be true and frank, enamored, sincere and not deceitful, just like we are for some important people in our lives.The things that happen in this way will become the most profound memories in our true state. For a long time, I have been easily troubled by this or that problem.Oldness can represent the breath of one's own life, so one finds that everything one has ever had can find the smell of that time in old things, and can recall the illusion of that time in old things.Problems will exist in the experienced time, even if sometimes they come from unknown imaginations and worries, those imaginations and worries are also from the past and the known.So, old attachments can never be said to be entirely good.Just like many other things, when we get some traces, smells, impressions, thoughts, and the comfort and security brought by them, we must not escape our due responsibility.This responsibility not only stems from facing oneself squarely and facing problems, it is like the resistance and difficulties felt by a person going upstream along a river. In life, all people need to find a support point for themselves, and use it to maintain survival, belief and reverie.And when a person loses his support point, that is when he needs nostalgia the most.He will hope to find some evidence from all things related to the old, to prove his state at a certain time and place, to prove his impression of his life.At that time, people will question their current situation, so they half-believe, half-believe, and may later believe and doubt at the same time. Slowly, I stopped trying to find ways to solve those problems.Not to mention my own vagaries, the mere existence of problems is also unruly.The laws and rules followed by the operation of all things in the world cannot be understood and changed by humans, so most of what we see are variables rather than fixed numbers.Craving for the old, at this time, I am a person who is on the road at dawn, following the rules of my own meditation, walking forward all the way, the road under my feet has already been passed.On the way, he faced countless problems and troubles, and endured the chaos and confusion at the junction of black and white. He didn't wake up from his dream until the sky was bright, and saw that life was still like that, and there were still so many things waiting for him to go. Things to do. It takes time to grasp and appreciate the old, because such a state of mind, to a certain extent, is a kind of peaceful and tranquil aftertaste, a kind of calm and decisive self-view, and a kind of slowing down of one's own pace. A rambling talk with time is a touch and inspection of one's past with the courage to break away from the turbulent and rapid times around.Moreover, returning to the old days will require a thorough understanding on the one hand and responsibility on the other. It also needs time to give people enough spirituality and will to face and bear. Gradually, as the feelings for old things and old things deepened day by day, I felt the importance of records more and more.For a long time, even now, I have always believed that the most original meaning and concept of writing is to record.Records come from people's pursuit and miss of their own state, and people's past exists in old things and old things.So I gradually discovered that when recording and nostalgia are equal, I can feel that the process of life seems to be presented under the sun. From the past to the present, life itself has become an old carrier, mottled and vicissitudes, but always It is the closest to oneself and the truth. I also often think about how long I haven't written.Such a period of time seemed to be muted, flowing meticulously but only intermittent pictures remained.Writing or other creations seem to be part of the narration, life is a movie for myself, and all words are just talking to myself. There will be a long period of time when I will not be able to write a single word.Opening the thick leather notebook, I saw the words when I stopped writing last time, but I couldn't write any more with the pen in my hand.The computer is more used because it is much faster and it is easier to edit the text.All written things are stored in a notepad document, and if there is something new to write, press Enter for a few lines to continue writing.Even facing the computer and the document that was opened, they had nothing to say, didn't want to write a word, and faced each other silently.Unwilling to do forced things, simply stop.Because it is absolutely impossible for a person to have something to write all the time, even if he may have something to say all the time. When I can't write, I will do some small and focused things, such as reading, pruning flower branches, going to the supermarket to carefully study the products and choose what needs to be taken away, and going to the video store to read some song titles or words on the back of the CD.Sometimes I review how long I haven't written.Without writing, part of the possibility of discussing certain things is lost.But there is no getting around it. The written work will be a new work for readers, maybe a new work.For those who write, the concept of a new work does not exist, never will exist.In a sense, writing is a trek of power, a crossing from one side to the other.It cannot be possessed and imprisoned by people, and the other side of the end point is often the past of people.To write a new work is to completely break away from a certain power in my heart.It comes from your heart, but it ends and completes in disengagement.The whole meaning of words lies in the constant disappearance and endless search.No one can determine what it expresses, because everyone can see some truth in his heart in it, which has nothing to do with others.A good work must be a medium or a container. What readers see through it is ultimately what is in their hearts. Seeing that this new work is about to be completed, the power it carries is separated from me, and I begin to face the unknown ahead, and begin to accept the loneliness that reaches my heart or the joy and confusion of looking back.All of these, people who need to write and people who read are honest and pure, just like old things and some important people in life, they must be true, frank, lovable, sincere and not deceitful. I can't predict what the luster of another new work will look like. Read it again, but it is just an old sentence. Chapter 6 Carving Time The moon is in your eyes, the sun is in my heart, now I write this article, just for you, just for you.