Chapter 8 part eight

(seventy one) Qi Leming told me that he worked as a waiter in a bar in Hainan, Worked as a temporary construction worker in Xi'an, sold CDs in Beijing, delivered milk in Urumqi, He said he always got up at 5 o'clock, Then get to work. I asked him is it hard? He replied that he was very happy. I imagined Qi Leming who was delivering milk across the street on a bicycle before dawn, hair flying in the black wind, With a contented and pure smile on his face, Whistling loudly, I have a CD player in my pocket, There is fast-paced rock and roll inside. I also smiled happily, I want to say to him, Le Ming, good night.

(seventy two) I met two people who love to travel on the Internet, One is Huang Yaoshi, One is Qinghe. My conversations with Huang Yaoshi are always dull and sometimes even quite short. But our relationship is very strong. Because he's the only one who can spend two hours with me non-stop People who talk about movies. He said, We are evenly matched. (seventy three) Huang Yaoshi also likes wandering, he told me: "At the end of 1999, I was in Mohe, In that icy city. There is a big lake there, But there are no marks on the map. There is a lighthouse by the lake, has been abandoned for a long time,

The walls are mottled, You can see the black bricks and those remaining cracks, There is dust everywhere. " (seventy four) I always like strange places, Strange city, strange street, The warmth from the strange bed. I feel like I'm looking for a kind of impermanence and change that can resist numbness. I always walk in different strange streets in this city, Looking at the unfamiliar house number, Imagine the lives of the people inside. Do it at sunrise and rest at sunset. Or like me, upside down. I like to look at the unclear shadows left by myself when I walk on the street

slight footprints, Then watch them be covered by the noise of the rolling crowd. (seventy-five) I remember when I left Xi'an I was full of joy I bought very small terracotta warriors and horses at a street stall, and I was going to take them back and give them away. When I paid the money, Xiao A kept standing by the side without talking, until the train leaves, He said slowly amidst the piercing whistle, Chen Shu, in fact, you are the person who is most afraid of loneliness. Strangers, Please stop your hasty steps, I do not know you, But I can understand your lonely posture when you are carrying a mountaineering bag.

I know you've been walking and never stopping, You want to find the station in your life that has been waiting for you for a long time, Maybe it's a warm look, Maybe a bright smile, Perhaps a chest so broad as to shelter from the wind, The pear blossoms are all over the shoulders. But when you don't find it, Please let me give you a place to rest, Because I know, the tiredness in your heart. I know your pure desire, That is to find a warm place to sleep. (seventy-six) Those so-called human civilizations that flow in the streets, Cars are like running water, horses are like dragons,

endless billboards, Ambilight widescreen, A man with a cold and numb face in a suit While hurrying away, he buried himself in the phone in a very low voice, Occasionally when you look up you can see their empty eyes, I think that's what I'm going to be like, Desperate just thinking about it. I remember Haruki's words: I just love despair that much. I sometimes inexplicably like places with a lot of people, Such as shopping malls such as subway stations, I like the state of existence shown by those ordinary people, Filled with worldly noise and cloying fragrance, But I can't always get into it,

I can't help but hold my head up Looking at the silent sky, Then I heard the lonely sound of birds flapping their wings. The joys and sorrows around us, life and death, are the excitement of others, my loneliness Fight each other in the dark and dank caves underground. (seventy - seven) Everyone who travels always in his own way Witness the traces that a place once left. Little A and I are always at dawn Leave where we stopped last night. After we pack our sleeping bags, We'll look at those empty canyons, vast grasslands, The gentle brook cries out, Then say goodbye to them.

Once we left a valley, Our voices have been floating there, The echo lasted for nearly a minute, Little A and I left with our own voices saying "goodbye", Walking in the slightly dissipating darkness, Walk in the gradually coming light. (seventy-eight) And Qi Leming always keeps his CDs with him tied with a string, and hang them on a tree, He always talks alone under those trees, Maybe to tell the tree, After speaking, he carried his luggage and continued on the road. hair flying in the wind, The CD on the tree swayed gently in the wind. Those words spoken to the tree,

embedded in the tree rings, With the passing years, it will grow into a towering memory bit by bit. (seventy-nine) Huang Yaoshi always keeps his own diary, He always writes while walking, Then leave the diary and leave it there. I once asked him, Do you remember what you wrote? He said, Can not remember. I say, Then why are you writing it? He said, write down, Just to forget. (eighty) And Qinghe, There are always lots and lots of maps. She always buys a map wherever she goes. I remember when I went to Shanghai she came to pick up my plane, We sat in a taxi, She pulled out a map of Shanghai to see where we were going.

I remember laughing at the time, I said I'm so inferior, People who live in Shanghai buy Shanghai maps, but me, Empty hands, Nothing at all.