I am a child who looks up at the sky when I feel lonely, looking at the big sun, looking at the big moon, seeing the pain in my neck, and seeing tears in my eyes.It's true, good boys don't tell lies.And the things that I write, that look like hallucinations that open up in the water, they are also real. music I have always been a person who loves music, and I love it overwhelmingly. The persistence in my bones is often unreasonable in the eyes of others. On clear nights, I always have a ballad in the CD player.I always like the voice of Yangqin Ding Ding Dongdong, like the soft singing of a Song Dynasty female poet who is full of thoughts.The cherries are red, the plantains are green, and the window sill is wet with rain.And I am surrounded by the warmth of the sofa, and in the low-key and flying fragrance of Nescafe coffee, I know clearly that the wind outside the window is extremely cool, and the white clouds are trimmed with silver edges like moonlight. Everything is perfect, and tomorrow must be sunny. Can be presumptuous and lawless.

However most nights I am in a bad mood.lonely.desolate.And a little tinge of fear.And this time I will choose Zhang Chu, or Dou Wei. I always sit on the blue and white sofa in the corner of the living room with a posture of resistance, like a lonely but stubborn child.With a face full of resistance and anger, but with bright eyes, he listened to Zhang Chu singing "God bless the people who are full of food" and Dou Wei humming without words.I am a person who does not eat on time, so God does not bless me, I often have stomach pains, and the pain makes me cry.Opposite my beloved blue and white sofa is a white wall, a large piece of white, spreading a sense of emptiness like a mountain top.I tried to hang a few of my favorite paintings on it, but I ended up taking them all down.Blank, still blank.That white wall made me think of the hollow in Baby Anne's palm, and the vast unknown deserts inside me.These are ambiguous and painful things.And once the music starts, I can touch the gorgeous colors on the wall, with bumps and bumps.

Zhang Chu always makes people think of the sultry long street under the scorching sun, a large group of idle people with bare upper body and slippers walking on the hot ground, their eyes are dull, like docile and stupid sheep.But there was a child standing on the asphalt-soaked black road in long black clothes and trousers, announcing his coldness with piercing eyes.It was so cold that cracks appeared in the bones, like a fragile crystal cup.That child is called Zhang Chu, and he said that lonely people are shameful.He said the ants were fine. And Dou Wei always gives people a taste of late spring and early summer. Every time I hear his voice, I can keenly feel a lot of water molecules suspended in the air, and they become tears when they attach to the eyelashes.Dou Wei's voice will always stir up a black wind passing through the hall, in which big black lonely flowers bloom, and the scorching brilliance burns my light gray pupils.Dou Wei always gives me a feeling of going backwards.Back and forth.He retreated until there was a black corner for him to rely on, and then he was willing to make the sound of spring water flowing.Children usually have a resisting nature. I don't know if Dou Wei is still a child, but I am a child anyway.I always sit in the corner of the library, creating and waiting for my little happiness in that corner, it doesn’t matter if my blood boils or my whole body is stiff, anyway, I don’t want anyone to approach.

Music is really a great pain reliever, for me it's like a den for a wandering, often wounded beast to hide in and lick my wounds in. My friend said that she can fly freely in the music, flying over the sun and the moon, flying over the mountains and rivers in the four seasons of spring and autumn, flying over the continuous rivers and black mountain peaks, flying until the dark clouds clear and the sun shines. I don't think I'm so free, I can only curl up a little tighter and tighter in the music, so that I can fall asleep until I open my eyes and all the troubles are gone. Then I will be very happy, and I will no longer shed tears alone in the dark.

Songs like heaven, earth, dreams, illusions, clouds, electricity, tears, complaints, flowers, wind, andante, Qin opera / my black elegy Movie Wong Kar Wai. When I wrote these three words, my fingertips felt a slight but sharp pain. He is a person who is good at creating hallucinations, and I am a person who is good at sinking in hallucinations, just as he is a good actor and I am a hardcore fancier.Wong Kar Wai has indulged too many fates and lonely too many people.Joyful characters are always sad at the end of the play, and sad characters are either mad or dead at the end of the play.Loneliness is Wong Kar Wai's killer copper, and loss is his brocade clothing for night walks.

Those lively winds, those lonely people.Takeshi Kaneshiro who kept eating expired canned pineapple and kept waiting for a miracle, Faye Wong with empty eyes and lonely gestures, Leslie Cheung who repeatedly read the almanac, Brigitte Lin who danced her sword at the reflection in the water, and stared at a hole in the wall. Leung Chiu Wai, who finally sealed all the secrets with mud, and Maggie Cheung, who was wearing a coquettish cheongsam under the dim street lights, these lonely people who are as lonely as wounds that refuse to heal, will always break into my life every night like an iron horse and glaciers in a dream.Past and Present.Things are different.The stars move.The vicissitudes of life.A dream for a thousand years.Never wake up.

Wong Kar-wai creates black wounds while creating hallucinations. Each wound is like a black mandala, which is coquettish and painful at the same time, and endless black fragrance is surging. Calculate my horoscope, look at my palm prints, I think I am doomed. A person is always subconsciously close to some people who are similar to himself.I remember someone saying that.So I knew that the blood flowing in my body was so lonely.Ice blue blood is the loneliest. I always have an astonishingly delicate touch to the characters in some non-mainstream movies, just like a small impact is a thunderbolt to a mimosa.I have seen many unknown movies, most of which I picked out from thousands of pirated discs.

And the people in those movies are always lonely.I clearly remember a man standing in front of the dimly lit floor-to-ceiling windows tearing up a calendar, page by page, persistently and almost crazy, until finally he went crazy and jumped off the 18th floor.As he soared through the sky, large, gorgeously colored clouds flashed across the sky.I also remember a woman who bought herself a bouquet of roses every night and threw them away the next morning without even looking at them, until someone finally gave her a bouquet of roses and she saw it the next morning When the rose withered but could do nothing, she shed tears all over the place.

And "Tokyo Love Story," which I've always seen as an extended movie.Whenever the theme music of "Tokyo Love Story" sounds, there will always be a painful smile in front of my eyes, and that smile will always pull my soul out of my body in an instant, and then Pulling my body out of this world in an instant.Every time I look at it, my heart tightens. When I see the handkerchief with "Nagao Wanji" flying in the wind tied to the railing of the unmanned station, I see Chi Ming Lixiang squatting down on the train and crying like a child. You will feel that the eye sockets are slightly swollen.

Seeing your figure squatting on the football field, I also kicked the ball over, Wanzhi, I gently called your name.see it?Wanzhi, I engraved "Chiming Lixiang" on the pillar of the school, and there is your handwriting on it when you graduated twelve years ago. You must be a little carrot at that time, right?I really hope that the engraved name can fill the blank memory between you and me.I don't know if my name can remain here for ten or twenty years, just like your name.Even though it may be short, as long as our names can stand side by side, that's enough. Who sings the black dirge/Who watches over the white village/My quicksilver/My fireworks/And my black hillside covered with irises/The bustling wind/Lonely person/The clear soul of burning brilliance/You are me /The gentle scar that refuses to heal read

Reading is flying in the wind at midnight, I always thought so.Reading seems to be an extremely important state in my life. When the black wind passes under the wings, I always feel inexplicable excitement. The books I read are very extreme, either they are as quiet and calm as Xu Jia and Enya, or they are as glamorous and flamboyant as Su Tong and Baby Anne, maybe I am born an extreme person. I remember that when I first watched Xu Jia, I was about to graduate from junior high school.At that time, I discovered for the first time that the author can achieve such a huge and exquisite work with such calm words.Later, I read her "The Most Meaningful Life Stories" and "Riding a Boat and Roaming in the South of the Yangtze River".She is quiet, like a kapok standing still, and her words are like the sunlight that has been washed thousands of times seeping from the kapok branches and leaves, flowing into my skin like spring water without rush.Because we are both students, it is not too difficult to read her words. In many cases, the resonance can spread without any obstacles.And the most important thing is that her words have an upward tension, as if someone is singing loudly and loudly while standing on the very high blue sky.Many times when I am depressed or lonely, I will turn to the last chapter. After reading it, my mood will be calm, and I can hold the math reference book without complaint until the sun and the moon Without light, the mountains have no edges and the sky and the earth are in harmony. However, Baby Anne and Su Tong gave me a literal prison, like a shimmering water prison.And I stood in the depths of the water prison, looking up at the flying birds passing by in the sky, with the happiness of sitting in the well and watching the sky in my pocket. Su Tong.I have never been able to understand why a man has such a cold and flamboyant imagination, like a colorful Haiying in the sea, beautiful but stinging.The well of fate described by him will always break into my dreams on windy and rainy nights.When I go to many places, I will look at the well in that place to see if someone will call me down. Annie baby.I don't know how to write about her.An abnormally wandering soul, a soul that can write words as lonely flowers.Baby Annie weaves an empty city in the water, and I stand in this city in a hurry, like a lost child.Anne said that her palm was hollow, but I looked at my palm, it was dry and warm. Although the palm lines were missing but the veins were clear, I thought I was a good boy in the end.I just need Annie to pierce my soul with a sharp gesture at the right time and with the right force to prove that I am not numb and that I am a good boy. Duras.Her fragmented grammar is like dense algae in the sea, a large group of swaying souls, entangled me in every thread.Her words are always hidden in the deep water, you have to hold your breath and dive into the water to see the beautiful fireworks blooming in the deep water, those gorgeous transparent illusions, and then you surface, take a deep breath, At the same time to meet the collapse after the rainstorm. There are other them or them, the ones who moved me. In my dream, I was a person who loved to walk. I walked through all the villages and cities written in the book, and even the huge grasslands full of flowers but empty.Walk through my glorious four seasons, walk through my sorrows and sorrows. The wine from the camel's head / the empty building in the snowy city / I want to hold the buckwheat hand / walk towards the wind / walk towards the cloud / walk to the peach blossom / the source of the river / whose right hand / pick up the silver needle ／Roll up the cuffs／Sew copper buttons one by one at the end of my world to heal my wounds I was an injury-prone kid, and after a game of badminton, my arm could be sore for a month from a muscle strain.It's ugly to be shaking with chopsticks.But a month later I was able to hold the racket and sweat happily again.But the scars in my heart can clearly hurt again from beginning to end every night. Those wounds are like me, a stubborn child who refuses to heal, because the heart is a warm and humid place, suitable for anything to grow . I like to find a beautiful road, and then walk on it calmly. When I walk through the shade of trees, I seem to have walked through the sorrow and joy in my heart. I have always hoped that I would be a person with a calm mind, not happy with things, not sad with myself, just like in vain, "forgetting the posture of joy and sorrow".But I have to admit that I am facing a lake that is too big, and a little wind can make me fluctuate.Many times, sorrows and joys without warning can overwhelm me in an instant. I also like to squat on the side of the road and watch the leaves of the sycamore trees fall one by one, covering the whole earth.I always feel that those leaves are falling down in a hurry to cover up a big secret, but when I sweep away the fallen leaves, I always see the black asphalt road.Just like when I squatted on the side of the road and saw a cloud slowly passing by in the sky, I would look at the sky foolishly, wanting to see what was revealed after the cloud passed by, but the sky behind the cloud was still the same for thousands of years , still the same sky, always the same sky.Similarly, I once had a beautiful mahogany chest that was locked but couldn't find the key. My mother told me it was empty, but I didn't believe it, so one day I finally broke it open with an ax and I got nothing. Obscurely see the bottom of the box.I ruined a beautiful case for some air.Many times I exhaust myself because of such inexplicable doubts or panics caused by uncertainties.I guess I'm a really troubled person. People around me say that my walking posture is lonely, with my hands in my pockets and my eyes staring at an unknown place in front of me.My friend said that I was really lonely when I was writing, my eyes were bright and dark, and my posture was a perfect defense.In fact, I am really lonely when I look up at the sky, but I always look up at the sky when there is only one person.As the writer said: You will never see the time when I love you the most, because I love you only when I can't see you.In the same way, you will never see me when I am the loneliest, because I am the loneliest only when you cannot see me. There are a lot of friends playing with me, maybe so many that one billboard can kill three when it falls.But I am really willing to love—not the love between a man and a woman, but the love that really opens one's soul to accept another soul—there are not many people.Also, I'm not a proud person.I am really a good boy, but occasionally I look up at the sky foolishly when I am lonely. Xiao A said that the loneliest plant in the world is the willow. In the bright spring, she held her heart full of white, shaking it in the air, and drifting with the wind, turning white bit by bit lonely. I think maybe my previous life was a willow tree, standing on the mountain wind, blooming large clusters of white loneliness in the wind. Whose loneliness/clothes me in Chinese clothes/whose clothes/cover my scarred shoulders/whose bright moon shines on my black pine hills/whose loneliness/cangjiang roaring in the mountains/whose home is that Lonely Child / Head Ramy / Every Night / Night / Singing / So Vast / So Desolate writing Writing is a dark suicide, Duras said. Some people say that I am good at telling stories, so I won a very prestigious first prize in the country.Actually they were wrong, I can't tell a story at all.I'm just good at cutting myself apart bit by bit, and then tell them everything about me bit by bit.I wouldn't be a good novelist because I'm not used to telling other people's stories.Even if I wanted to write about a hard-working farmer in the Song Dynasty, I would still blame myself in the end.Even when I write about the heroine, I am used to using the first person to spread out the story, build a frame, and then fill in my own flesh and blood bit by bit. This state requires enough neuroticism to persist. And I'm a Gemini, so what I write will have a big contrast. I am a person with a dual personality, and obviously, Xiao A always tells me that he can't tell whether I am a person who is happy in the sun or a person who is used to pain in the dark. Now I live alone in an old house near the school. At night, I always sit by the windowsill and write a lot of words. I don’t stop until my fingers start to twitch. Little A said that I am a person who does not want to die.Sometimes I sit at the desk and watch the shadows cast by the branches outside the window on the curtains, shaking and shaking, like sign language. In fact, I want to live a truly peaceful life in the future, work in an ordinary and stable job, find someone to love well, get married in an ordinary way, and live in an ordinary house.I think that one day I will leave the life of writing and this life of inner displacement.I just need to be a good husband and a good father.I think: the happiness held tightly in your hands should be simple and transparent.Just like two wild geese, clinging to each other and flying across the sky, so simple and so happy. I have always been a child with a complicated personality, and many people say that I am difficult to understand. So I smiled at them. I am a person who laughs often, but I am not always happy. Many times when I feel sad, the smile has already climbed to the corners of the eyes and brows before the tears welled up.I get angry at people I like and smile at people I don't like. Until one day I discovered the pleasure that writing brings me, so I started writing non-stop.It's like blindfolded and constantly chasing that black happiness. The hand of the river / the throat of the night / the moonlight hangs the bamboo building / who made the sake for me / those burning bamboo slips / those blooming wounds / and my twin stars / one is here / the other is there I'm such a kid, I'm honest, I don't lie.But if one day you meet a child on the street looking up at the sky, it's not me.Because when I look up at the sky, no one sees.