After the rain, the remaining memories

With the passage of time, the growth of age, the precipitation and washing of various experiences, the unknowable future, the desire and longing become more and more rational, and rarely live in the longing and longing. I like to find a corner in the quiet night, like to find a corner in the hustle and bustle, a person, take off the cloak of loneliness, throw my loneliness into warm words, experience the bittersweet happiness of others, and read the memories of others. It is not that there is no future, nor does it not know where the future is, in the face of an uncertain future, nor is it the erosion of passion, but only want to wrap the passion in the gradually plump soul, use the gradually plump soul to taste the future's sweet and sour, and embrace the joys and sorrows of future life with calmness and calmness. Occasionally, he would pick up the black and white film in his memory, taste her, read her, and pile her into a warm text.

The winter morning was cold, the sun had not yet lifted the clouds that had entangled her, and the cold air around her was solidified, and a few faint mists flew up the river, slowly flying towards the gray sky, looking for the embrace of the iron gray clouds. Unknown to the cold, winter anglers crouched on the cement rolling dam in the river, staring at the floating, staring at the almost frozen water, waiting for the warm and excited trembling.

The river embankment after the winter rain, like a long broken mirror, lies alone on the bank of the slowly flowing river, hanging above the head of the morning angler, splitting the city in half, the morning fog gradually fades to the haze after waking up, a puddle of water is connected to a puddle, occasionally a few branches, a few fallen leaves scattered, tightly tied to the stone slab by the winter rain, leaving a scar that the morning fog cannot erase. Golden ginkgo biloba leaves sprinkled the lawn inside the fence, the newspapers left on the stone benches, leaving the warm lip prints of the lovers last night; the water frozen on the leaves, escaping the heavy shackles of the leaves, gently hitting the broken mirror; the students carrying school bags, going to work, practicing in the morning, or walking in the same way, or passing side by side. The gray sky was reflected on the long broken mirror, forming a regular gray sea, black tree shadows, black houses, black shadows of me... All thrown into the broken mirror, one after another black and white film, one after another turned backwards, each step like stepping on the gray sea. Crisp footsteps, stepping on the mirror, stepping on the black film, splashing two small waves.

I don't know how long I have walked, nor how far I have gone, the broken mirror surface is getting brighter and brighter, and finally reflecting the golden warm dazzling light, the sun finally tears through the clouds and warms the world. The mirror surface was slowly shattered by bundles of warmth, and finally disappeared, and the pieces of black film became long and short, messy shadows, covered with mottled stone slabs. The golden yellow ginkgo biloba leaf, the light brown sycamore leaf, danced in the wind in the golden morning sun. Looking around, the iron gray clouds were hiding behind the mountain, the warm light blue curtain on the side gently floated above the city, the golden autumn chrysanthemums in the trees were still blooming so much, the bougainvillea on the balcony was so dazzling red in the sun, the wisps of willow branches were cheerfully flicking the embankment, the tall camphor tree, the osmanthus tree, covered in emerald green, laughing in the sun, the few golden ginkgo leaves of the remaining branches, so clear yellow, and the white crystal bones were clearly seen in the sun. The droplets of water remaining on the leaves and the tips of the grass burst out a colorful and dazzling light...

Walk over river banks, cross bridges, walk into long tunnels...