Chapter 7 Title: Little Legend

[1] which ones are fake. Four seasons, rain and snow.The wrinkled sea is about to bloom.Whether it is a unicorn or a glutton, it crosses the boundary and turns into an arrogant and messy cloud. Don't mention which ones are fake.The legends that happened in the dream are desperately listing the beautiful and illusory, so that even the sentences are out of order.Just after waking up during the day, I forgot their specific meanings.Like the lines distributed in the palm, they are too fragmented to find a simple and complete one.All gypsy fortune tellers will lament them. I know which ones are fake.Then I would laugh a little when I think of it during the day.Romantic and pictorial fantasies are always inexhaustible for girls. If there are thousands of handsome possibilities for the prince's appearance, the sea that will always bloom in nothingness will always look the same.The grand folds reveal its pomp, like a flower whose edge touches the universe.

I don't know what I saw, but after waking up, a lot of words flowed through my mind.Including descriptions and statements, even parallelism and question marks, it is like an ignorant soul has found a body to keep all the last memories of the previous life, but still can't point out a complete meaning.Only the messy fragments flashed back in front of my eyes.The four seasons are linked together.Rain and snow, the sky and the earth are pure white as before.The sea folds.Because of the wind.Qilin or Taotie, whether it is Qilin or Taotie, what is the relationship between them. until waking up.The sky is dark and white, blending with the ashes of last night, and the sound of father and mother's breathing quietly enters through the crack of the door-like pulling a string, with a soft sound, a heavy sound, and a soft sound, and then stops for a space, it is father rubbing nose.

Those are not fake, I know.Turning over, a certain part of the bamboo mat has not been occupied by the body temperature, and there is a coldness that cannot be resisted.There were footsteps on the stairs.Stepping into the day. Half the world persists in the decadent reality of waking up.Bicycles weave through the space of the road, and buses panic.The ballpoint pen was used to write about the major changes that occurred in BC.The fruit peddler stopped people and said, "then sell it to you, count me unlucky".In a blind corner where the sun can't shine, a female cat is having a difficult delivery. She squints her eyes tightly and her lower body twitches occasionally.

The other half still has an eternal legend.There is no need to test the truth of my dreams.Neither true nor false can define it.They multiply in the scroll, from a small dot of ink at the beginning to a complete story.The unicorn sleeping in the river valley, or the irascible glutton, stepped on soft and soft footprints without a sound, and knocked out the fishy smell of animals in their nostrils.Then, the plantain seeds paved the way, the hyacinths made a sound, and the huge sea opened pure blue petals. It is the most beautiful and best blue I have ever seen. See it so clearly when you close your eyes.

[2] When I opened my eyes, June 13, 2004, at seven o'clock in the morning.The body that crawled out of the dream was like stepping out of a swimming pool, feeling unprecedented gravity in an instant, and the body was heavy. Another concrete dream.Although it happens every day.Like symptoms of youth.Similarly, there are inexplicable idleness, boredom of doing nothing, and well-crafted sadness. Children create new candies every day, but not all of them are sweet.Most are sour and bitter.As if asking for trouble. Have to admit that many things are asking for trouble.There is a large blank in the sensitive age. If you run, laugh and praise all things in the world every day, your nerves will become a false plastic texture.And it should be a slender and warm meridian, communicating all our perceptions like a bus network.That's why in that spare time, I became a villain who was busy with fantasy and indulging in sadness.

Fantasize about your own legendary stories, and sadly capture the city without defenders day after day. There is no way to talk about these very private matters with others, and they are all kept confidential in the bottom of my heart.Riding in the darkness, they flourished even more.As time went by, their moss prints appeared on the wall to the south.Large expanses of moist dark green, a reminder that there is always something invisible to the sun.Do not go to the sun. So I never talked about these things with my friends.Once a secret is made public, it becomes an unbiased joke.There is such a little monster in the body, and when I go out to meet people, I am afraid that its claws will hurt innocent people.

On weekdays, when chatting with friends, we only talk about the new scandal of the idol, the breakfast porridge launched by KFC, the shortcut to the cinema, and the soy sauce stain on the shoulder of the teacher, thinking that it is the result of not using Xinbilang.In fact, we don't know whether Ariel can wash away all the stains, as advertised.It's just chatting, those ordinary topics can change their appearance like a chameleon again and again according to the environment. There are constant gossips, new products, and multi-perspective stories constantly staged under the bright sun. The smell of washing powder on his body is real and warm, floating in the dispensable atmosphere.

Very figurative youth, projected in a little bit of artificiality and countless realities.Time creeps up on it.I often see his face from the same angle.Eyebrows, eyes, nose.The wall behind is so white and powdery.So people appear smooth and clean, like images on the same plane.All colors are reversed on the negative before being developed.His hair turned white, his eyes glowed white, his lips were gray and green, and the world was dark. There is a slow but powerful tightening of my nerves here, from all the tiny branches to the heart.It is like a moth wrapped in a cocoon, suddenly gaining the power to break its shell.

Fly out and hold the flame of death in your mouth.Then thrown into the deep sea, become part of the legend. Rough, soft, the sad sea of ​​accumulated moths. [3] Somehow I just think of the sea so easily.At the end of the day, the land has submerged into the prehistoric, and there is still a sea, which becomes the last container to hold all the legends. The third eye of the world, closed azure in the universe. Is it because the soul was soaked in the mother's sea for a long time before birth?Those little bits left in the cerebral cortex.Right now, it is already a vague and ethereal picture like a fantasy.The sky by night, the sea by day, the soul gathers in all directions, completes a perfect life, and floats in the sea of ​​amniotic fluid.Like a dimple.The whole world is smiling.

The mother myth reaches its climax here, as she plays Nuwa who creates a beloved little human from water and mud.Then she will lose all her divine powers and become a hardworking and ordinary woman, maintaining all the meanings of life, big or small.I'm in the big one, maybe the biggest one. At night, I saw my mother turn around and wash the dishes in the kitchen. She poured dish soap into the water while talking.Bubbles, streams, sharp fingers, narrow sinks. She has long forgotten that in her ancient myths, foam, water flow, and sharp fingers all happened calmly in the huge ocean.Then I will remember it for her, seeing it blooming like a flower every night, with gentle folds.

[4] In all the four seasons, all the rain and snow, all the sea and the only flower, the Taotie and Qilin are gone. We always think that we are young and limitless, and use "like" as a shield to act recklessly.But they don't know that "youth" is clearly a past tense. On and on, on and on.The sworn love was easily forgotten.There is nothing left in youth, who is willing to be empty-handed. We were all empty-handed. [5] legend. I am a person who raises unicorns and gluttons in my heart, holds the world's seawater, and is empty-handed. These are all true.