Chapter 13 Topic: Fluorescence

[one] From then on, let the dust increase the distance between us. [two] When I was in elementary school, my parents were always on business trips, and when I was at home alone, I made dumplings during the day and ate dried noodles at night.lasts for several days.The key is hung on the chest with a long rope, and the TV is turned on when I get home.The thing called Xiaobawang learning machine is actually used to play 64-in-1 game cards.Knock ice bricks or tanks, and Pacman. The school I attended in junior high school was opposite the stadium, so I got a large open sky. In April, someone flew a kite, and I couldn’t help but look there when I was in class.Then I went to the video store two streets away after school, and my favorite idol singer released a new album.In the days when magnetic tape was still the mainstream, an entire wall on wooden shelves.The fried sugar cake I bought before was scolded by the store manager to finish eating before I could come in, and then I swallowed it in two bites, almost rolling my eyes because of choking.

When I was in high school, I also went to remedial classes during the summer vacation. A class lasted 40 minutes, but 30 minutes were spent dozing off.It takes 45 minutes to ride a bicycle from home to the tutoring school. In the midsummer of July and August, I pedaled unsteadily, riding faster between two lush camphor trees, and slower in the shadow of the camphor trees.However, his grades still couldn't improve, and in the middle of the night after the exam, he gritted the sheets with his teeth and cried hard in the dormitory. [three] Then, the friend who put on her pajamas and sat in front of the Xiaobawang learning machine with me, the parents who were so close to each other in elementary school, knew each other well, and when I was left alone, she came to spend the night with a double portion of dinner.At ten o'clock in the middle of the night when homework was thrown aside, the two opened their eyes excitedly in order to clear the "Squirrel War".

And where is she right now. Like the friends who sat next to each other in junior high school, they were called out for being in a daze together in class.In front of the video store, she swallowed three pieces of candy and I swallowed four pieces, sharing the same sweet taste.Then I bought Su Huilun's "lemon tree", and she picked Meng Tingwei's "Inner Word and Sign Language".Even inventing weird games, even in the same classroom separated by only two or three meters, they frequently communicated by writing letters, going back and forth once or twice a week, and quickly accumulated a thick stack.Must, maybe, should, maybe, have written "very glad to be this way" at the end of a letter, something like that.

But where is such a friend now. On the weekend, I sorted out the text messages on my mobile phone and saw the New Year text messages from my high school friends.As soon as the remedial class was over during the summer vacation, I volunteered to insist on driving her to the opposite station after it was over, even though the journey home would take fifteen minutes longer.And during the three years of being inseparable, she played all the roles, including crawling on the bed in the middle of the night and groping in the dark to wipe my tears with her hands, skipping class and going to a distant supermarket to buy delicious bread together, and even getting really excited to reprimand me I am not strong enough, she has done such things.

It's just that, right now, it's a friend I greeted with a text message only a year ago. Where. [Four] In fact, it's not that I don't know.They went abroad to study, fell in love and got married, or worked in a company in the urban area, and were successfully retained after doing a good internship. "Where" doesn't mean that. [Fives] After school life is over, meet new people.Working together, I took out the quilt and spread it on the floor of the hall when I stayed up late at night, chatting and eating bread while eating. The girls' calves were intertwined and intertwined, and because of the overheating, they often stretched out to breathe.At night when I was free, I went to the street hand in hand, sat by the closed fountain, and it was suddenly reopened to spray a few wet backs.

Or met on the Internet, from strange to familiar, into a good relationship.I spend hours together with chat tools every day, talking about small things that happen at any time, what I had for lunch just now, or which cartoon I am watching now, or a joke I just saw.Even if you use the keyboard to yell "ahhhh" meaninglessly, you can also receive the same meaningless but responsive pop-up window and write "Hoo Hoo Hoo".When I want to give gifts on my birthday, I can also meet in a fast food restaurant when I have the opportunity, and when I meet in the middle of the night, I am willing to share my deepest secrets and loneliness.

Just the same, they all disappeared. Become a person who doesn't even know the situation at the moment, doesn't leave a name in the mobile phone address book, and never rings the chat profile picture again. [six] It's like a road of constant subtraction, slowly, gradually, deserted. [seven] But now there are still people who can joke with each other, understand each other's temperament, have a warm relationship where you can hear "come on" from her mouth, and have someone who can go to the movies together and fill up the call records. Long-distance and short-distance calls, from dark to dawn.Therefore, there are still, and there are still friends at this moment.

They put what used to be replaced. [Eight] Unfortunately, not a quarrel, not a split, not even an iota of conflict, not because of the emotional change from positive to negative.It seems to be very natural and helpless, short-term consciousness after a long period of unconsciousness-lost the information of those important people, lost contact. With graduation as a turning point, there was no chance to meet each other. Maybe at first we communicated frequently, but one day it was suspended due to the exam week, but the density dropped sharply from then on, until finally, when I think about it, it has been several months since the other party has not contacted each other again. .But at this time, new faces, new phone numbers, and new topics are pushed out of the river in front of me like soft water.So after all, there is laziness and frustration in my heart to give up. On my birthday, I invite different people from before, and I can also have a good time.

Graduation or job change, farewell and departure, sometimes even similar opportunities are not needed.Just because of busy negligence, or other long-forgotten reasons, the connection on the Internet was cut off, and each other became a gray and black pattern.And even if such a beginning is made, it will suddenly freeze after a dozen sentences of dialogue.Embarrassment and discomfort creep up, standing where it used to be warm. Time and space become two multiplied lines, and a huge number is obtained, from which only the dust of memories can be filled. Alienation seems to be the law of nature.Just like a city that is declining day by day, a season that loses its power, a gesture that is no longer popular, a certain abandoned railway track, its sleepers are weathered or decayed, and vigorous wormwood grows around, burying it little by little until it disappears in sight.

[Nine] There must be eternal beauty in this world, like the friendship sung in all the poems.There must be.Accompanied by you for a long time, not bound by time and space, the eternal friendship of colored glaze. So there must be friendships in this world that are not eternal, not so eternal, but only shine at a certain stage. [ten] Such losses are so common that we become accustomed to them from heart to body.When organizing the contact book of the new mobile phone, I will also consider whether to delete it, "Is there any use for keeping it", and other indifferent thoughts.When I realized that I was passing by a former friend's company, I didn't even think about stopping to take a look, and there was only the phrase "Oh, this is it".

Is it a decision?Is it desolate? And being able to use the title "former friend" must contain the meaning of "not now".Even though there's no real reason, "it's not, it's not", just to brush it off. [eleven] Then one night, I broke into the website of my former friend without knowing it, and then from this to that, the other party who had forgotten the name for ten years became clear one by one.Thinking more about the past, playing badminton in gym class and getting stuck in a tall spruce branch.One year's birthday gift was a cassette tape recorded to the tape recorder.There should be a section singing Su Huilun's song.She was the first person I talked to when I entered high school.Like a towel soaked in hot water. So of course I dreamed while I was sleeping. The car was full of people, and the sky outside the window was a mixture of purple and blue. In the subsequent conversation, it became clear that they were going to see the Cassiopeia meteor shower.And on the sky, which seemed to be only a few hundred meters away, was filled with fleeting white light, and the sound of roaring and cracking could be vaguely heard.It was a gorgeous night. I talked to the people around me, and then I turned my head to talk to the people in the back row, or the people in the front row, or the people in the right front row... In the crowded compartment, they were all former friends. [twelve] There must be friendships in this world that are not eternal, not so eternal, but only shine at a certain stage.Just like there is a substance called phosphor in this world.It will slowly release the light it has absorbed before, and will eventually release it one day. At the last moment, the beam of light reflected from its body changed from strong to weak, and finally thinned out, followed by complete and silent darkness.All the landmarks and place names written in fluorescent light before have disappeared. So, at this time, can you now understand the meaning of a very old, very old sentence? That sentence said, "There is no going back." Do you understand now. postscript: Some things I can no longer tell whether they really happened or hallucinations.Memories become unreliable under the influence of time. In my impression, I went out to play with my sister in the same building when I was very young. The outside of the building group is a hillside, which is divided into inside and outside by the partition wall.When we climbed over the partition, she accidentally fell and injured her back badly--it still looks believable here, but, I remember the wound, very serious damage, her sweater was rubbed Then the bones on the spine are exposed, a row of straight white bones--it is not very reliable here, but even if surrounded by a sense of absurdity, there are still vivid and clear images in my mind, so real that it is jaw-dropping . Can't tell if it's true or false. It was also similar to that age, there was a small forest behind the house.To be precise, it was six or seven unknown trees.But they have leaves that can be picked off and chewed as snacks. After the obvious plant-like spicy smell, they are sweet and sour, so they become "natural, healthy and wonderful deliciousness" in memory.But do such trees really exist?Like a signpost in a magical tale. And in the earlier summer, when I was enjoying the cool downstairs at my grandma’s house at night, when it was close to eleven o’clock, a red and orange fireball appeared on the street lamp above my head.It suddenly appeared above the head, stayed for a few seconds and flew away and disappeared instantly.The hot, humid summer night before was restored. You see, I'm telling the truth, but now even I don't think it's true. So what the adults said did happen-the neighbor's aunt died in an accident while on duty, the summer when the flood broke out, and left a mud mark of more than ten centimeters on the wall after it faded, and the grandma broke it on the back mountain when she came. I took off my pants, and I was pushed into a ditch a few meters by a naughty boy on a toy car--I have no impression of these things that adults have said with certainty, and I have nothing to do with them in my memory. If true or false is no longer worth worrying about. So, let me stand in front of you with the appearance of being related to bones, chewing leaves to feed myself, and even having contact with aliens. I hope this meeting will be different from the past. It is the first collection of essays published, and if nothing else happens, it should be the only collection of essays in the next three, five, or even seven or eight years (anyway, no one will think of confronting me after eight years... right? ).It took me several months to sort it out, but compared to revising, the so-called sorting is just reading it over and over again, reading it once and then reading it again. I am extremely sloppy in life, but I have obsessive-compulsive disorder in other places. The outstanding performance is that I am always dissatisfied with my articles. Even if I publish them, I will not read them again. Disgust.But in the process of sorting out this time—or repeated reading, there were no conclusions like critics, such as "not good", "this paragraph was handled very rough", and "what's the matter". "So there was such a thing...", "Yes, I remembered...", "That time...", "That's true...", none of these are thoughts about the quality of the article. In each essay, there are only pasts that have happened, or that I think they really existed.It should be true and not wrong, whether it is an embarrassing childhood, weeds overgrown in various crevices, not understanding the cause of hardship, or a weak character, making mistakes while having various fantasies, or a little bit of warmth, melted by it They are all irrefutably true. When my mother brought the news that "Your article has been selected on Reader", I was in a critical state of insomnia for several days, so I used a tired face to cover up my panic and embarrassment, "Oh, then do you want to buy a copy?" Ben," he said lightly. "Heh..." She smiled, wearing a camel sweater for home after get off work, so she lost the taste of a working woman and became a very standard mother, and then told me, "Actually, your father bought it yesterday." There was a very traditional "click" in my heart, so I had no choice but to continue to talk with "Oh yeah". "It's about some kind of magician, huh? Right? A magician for the rest of his life?" she asked me. "You know that?" "Yes, I know." "Hey, "Reader" is very powerful. My colleagues usually buy it, and now they all know it." "...But Readers haven't sold as much as before." Actually, I'm not sure. "You don't know, I was very jealous after reading that article... After your father finished reading it, his expression really seemed to be about to cry." I stood where I was, and after a while, she said "I'm going back first, I haven't eaten yet", so I sent her out "goodbye". "The Magician in the Second Half of Life", written nearly three years ago, is an essay about my father.And what I am sure is that in the process of writing that article, there must have been tears, just like when I wrote "Millionaire" and "", the music in the earphones played a catalytic role, so the nasal cavity seemed to come out of nowhere Sour, spread upwards, and then turned into liquid and seeped from the eyes. But what puzzles me is that at this moment, I actually have the urge to cry.In the modern age where sentimentality is no longer a compliment, the body is out of control. I never express my feelings for my parents in person, and even I am usually a naughty and sweet daughter, but when I write about them, I push the computer keyboard away from my face, bury my face in my arms and cry . There are many, too many things in this world that bring tears to my eyes when I think of them.Although most of the time is still joking, talking loudly, discussing celebrity gossip, and living a very chic and bright life.But in the end there will still be a certain taxi's right back seat, a certain song, a certain renamed drink label, or something similar, which makes people suddenly turn their faces and sniff their noses casually. Then use the muscles and bones of the face to widen the distance between the eyes as much as possible.This can always bring back the tears a little bit. Too many of our weaknesses. The collection of essays that I have read in full recently is Liang Shiqiu's series.A real master, very humorous and wise, with extensive knowledge and experience, one page makes people burst out laughing unsuspectingly, and the other page is full of economics that I have never heard of.Later, when I read it in a bookstore, I could gain similar insights.Most of the prose collections show the author's "foundation", thoughts, knowledge, and insights, which are amazing. But helplessly, I can't do it at all.Knowledge or experience, culture or the development history of European art are completely blank.So there is absolutely no way to tell or express it.Those things never existed for me, so of course I couldn't share them with others in words. But as I said before, prose is the only subject that I don’t look at critically. On the contrary, I like it very much. If I have a thick skin, I will say that I feel that I am very good at it at present, and I have the mood of "writing prose is no problem for me". . Let yourself who has always been negative and inferior temporarily forget the negative and inferior things.I even write this sentence with gratitude.Because in each article, I saw the past, and I can remember and write down every point that I have touched—whether it is warmly or sadly—my own affairs, hoping to be the same as all those who have ever been. Feelings shared by people. When there is nothing more to share, only things in my heart can last forever. After they have influenced me for a long time and become who I am today, I will describe them. What can be shared is only the past, only perception, and only things that have happened and felt. I hope that if someone can resonate at the same time.This is my prose. Farewell to the weird bloody pictures in the memory, buried the sour and sweet tree, and never saw a flying saucer again for more than ten years... If the memory cannot distinguish the true from the false, but it can be identified through the mood. Trivial uneasiness, anger, bewilderment, more subtle happiness, warmth, and warm helplessness, if you have ever felt such a feeling, then the event that produced it must be real. This world is very powerful, and it will arrange things like suffering and experience for everyone.At the same time, each of us is stronger than we imagined. Even if we bear so many things, despair or cry, we can still survive tenaciously.Turn those immortal things into a moment, passing by indifferently.And, let all the moments become immortal, accumulating eternity. ,and. That's the way it is. I myself have a very bad habit of easily ignoring the preface and postscript of the book. After reading the main text more than ten times in a few years, I may remember to turn to the postscript. That's how I am. So thank you so much for being here. I don't know how to end it, so let's do it first. thanks. bye. It was winter when the PS book came out. Do you like winter?I've been liking it since recently. If it can snow, it will fall. fall down December 7, 2007