Reminiscent of old photos
(Liu Dongdong)
A photograph records a memory, a memory involves a story, a story represents a period of time.
The old photos truly record the steps we have walked in the river of human growth, leaving a moment of unforgettable precious years.
Not everyone has a story, but everyone will have a certain stage, even if it is not unforgettable enough, but when they turn to the old yellowed photo, they remember it, and their hearts are like a lemon rain, sour and astringent, and that feeling cannot be expressed in words.
Pick up the lost memories and piece them into your present self; put away the lost scattered beads and string them into a chain of memories; pick up discarded old photos and wipe the traces of the years; our youth will always be frozen at that point in time.
The deceased are like Sif. Time is like the flow of spring flowers, along the river of years, flowing away and can never come back. The annual flowers will bloom again and the trees will be green again, but they will no longer be the lush red of the past.
The hourglass of time flows quietly little by little, the traces of the years are carefully depicted in one stroke and one painting, and the perfect memories often bring me a lot of warmth and touch...
Who is it? Decades later, your photos are still treasured. Who is it? You remember that innocent teenager. Who is it? Remember the troubles of your youth. Who is it? After many years of not seeing, I often miss you in my heart.
The flow of light and shadow takes away too many memories of the past, a flower, a song, a leaf, a photo and even a beautiful dream.
The past is like smoke, warm as yesterday. I always thought that memories would slowly run aground, turn into bubbles, and disappear into the edge of the sea, but the seeds of memory came and went from time to time and were buried, and they could no longer be traced back to the old time.
But that year the sun was shining, just like your smiling face, but I didn't think that the flashy dream had faded into the years, time skimmed over your old photos, doodled a crooked autumn, didn't want to see you again next time, only the next time strangely nodded and rubbed shoulders, how can you have gradually drifted away, and your eyes can't see your face clearly. Who says there is no vicissitudes of the sea, who is the one who is carved on the dome, who is half-blind, who pays the past to the clouds, who says that hand in hand forever, who is in a bunch of nonsense, hates the loneliness of this black noisy city, like the desolation of the Gobi for thousands of miles, the drunken years will be worn with green silk, but still can't sleep in the dust, only on a night without stars, silently make a wish, forget each other in the dust.
Photos can freeze everything, but they can't lock in the flow of years. Red dust rolling, the world is right and wrong and the vicissitudes of the mulberry field, sigh life and time, fate will always have accidents and accidents, there are too many can not let go, the soul pinned on the yearning of life, longing for the future and dreams as beautiful.
With memories, life can be enriched, and the years are full of poetry. Many memories of the moment witness to the bits and pieces on the road, like walking on the black and white keys of time, playing a soothing song from the heart.
We use images and photographs to record the beauty and emotion of that moment, because it will eventually become a moment that we will miss in this life.
The hustle and bustle of life, the complexity of housework. It seems that people do not have the patience to think about the feelings they have remembered, but when they really open the door of memory, the scene is still clear.
Smart as wise, it is inevitable to ask why time is so hurried, such as you and me ordinary people can only pick up the mood, in the past clouds to find the familiar beauty, keep a calm to live a good time.
There are many, many photographs, and there are many memories, and time is like a tyrannical wind in the distance, blowing down trees and blowing away dust, but it will always blow the eternal line between people's hearts and memories. Just as the birthmark on a child's body once printed, it will live with you forever, "people will be old, the heart is not old", wandering in the world for a long time, will always feel a little empty, at this time, please open your memories, taste the sweetness of the past, give the soul a holiday, but also to the place to be going to make a look forward, their own life with memories strung together, will make life more purposeful.
Can't stay the years, can't forget the story.
Dreams start here, love sets sail from here...