Reminiscences, the film of life

Memory is a movie of life, recording the past; memory, another painting, colorfully painted with white paper.

However, time has taken away memories. As I grew up, I found that the people around me, under the constant erosion of time, are changing, some have gone and will not return, some no longer participate in life, some are still there, but they are no longer the youth they once were, together with their memories.

Sometimes when the world around you is quiet, you can't help but fall into your own world, like looking forward to a moment of leisure when you are busy, and imagining sipping a cup of strong tea outside of leisure, even if it is a little bit. The world is fast now, so fast that it is sometimes breathless.

At this moment, it was so familiar, as if it knew what was happening, it could be said that it was in the dark. A scene, a word, everything, is so familiar, but it is always impossible to grasp it and change it.

Sometimes I feel that I am very single, like to wander in loneliness, and enjoy the loneliness in wandering.

At this time, how I hope to pick up those lost memory fragments again, and then meticulously put them together, and I hope to freeze time in each unforgettable moment, like a rolled up scroll, I can show it again when time stops, pull it out, and then taste it again.

But – life is not poetry, poetry and far away after all. It reminds me of a kingdom – a storyless kingdom, which has never had a story.

In the kingdom, life is as calm as a mirror, people live yesterday like today, today like tomorrow, last year like this year, this year like next year, day after day, year after year, there has been no story.

As described, the people in the kingdom without a story are happy, because having a story means twists and turns and disasters. I am like a shellfish collector, looking at the beautiful and exquisite shells, but I can never catch it, always out of reach!

Because those shells cannot withstand the wind and waves, a slight wave will go with the waves, and a low tide will disappear without a trace. Their existence is short-lived, and so is the joy they give, not to mention the memories they leave behind.

Could it be that a person who collects shells can only watch like this forever, but cannot enjoy the joy of the moment when he picks up the shells?

No, for a shellfish collector, I have always believed that patience, hope, will one day pick up, and again and again will be much more beautiful and delicate than the shells seen before.

I also believe that I will also find my shell like a shell collector, but that day has not yet come...

At night, I fell asleep, dreaming that I was standing on the beach, and facing a blue sea, the next wave in the night sky came ashore, bringing many beautiful shells, and although the wave receded, the shells never went with it. Immediately after, the waves came up one by one, and more and more shells...

-Author-

Pen name: Xinchen. For the text, I like the kind of touch that is very simple but full of emotion and resonates. I like the literature of the seventies and eighties, no materialism, full of truth, and love traditional culture.

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