(The countryside in memory, far and near.) Between far and near, it is all fragments of thoughts)
Stone
It seems to be a record, but it is much larger than a record.
I am sure that it is a big record of the countryside, containing the most simple and beautiful melodies in the hometown.
Soybeans, adzuki beans, sorghum, corn, barley, wheat, beans, peanuts... They are all passionate country singers, who sing about pastoral scenery and nostalgia; there are natural disasters and sufferings, and there are also winds and rains.
The solo has a long rhyme.
The chorus is in unison.
The lead singer is the one who pushes the stone mill to turn, and he or she, as long as he or she gently leads the beginning of the song, the country singers will sing emotionally.
Day after day, suffering is ushered in, and suffering is sent away, leaving behind the most authentic fragrance of life.
pond
The ponds in my hometown have long since dried up to the bottom.
The pond that has dried up to the bottom has long been in my heart, condensed into a clear water that will never dry up, and it is watered with my thoughts and dreams every day.
I saw my hometown reflected in the clear pond, and I saw the willows on the side of the pond caressing the waves of the water and caressing my naked childhood.
I learned to swim after choking on the water in the pond, I learned to swim from here, I swam through the rivers and the sea.
The saliva I choked on, little by little, became the pond of my hometown, nourishing me for decades.
Because of such a pond, you see how steady my steps are, how evenly you listen to my breathing, and how clear and bright my eyes are.