【Dye youth into glaze】
Author: Wind And Snow
Whenever I see the young men who walk together and return together on the street, see their innocent faces, bright smiles, and flying laughter in the twilight of the day, my heart can't help but be. It was like a stone falling into the surface of the lake, swinging away the ripples. At that time, I didn't delve too deeply into what it felt like, until in that rain, when I encountered a familiar face, my heart suddenly palpitated, and many pictures came - like the mid-spring wind blowing across the willow embankment, rolling up the sky.
I don't know, have you ever had such a memory: in the warm morning sun, carrying a bulky school bag, holding a bun bought by the roadside in your mouth, pinching the time to catch the bus, and then rushing into the school gate in the scolding of the doorman, and finally stepping on the class bell, under the death of the class teacher, entering the classroom in a battle... If I were to give these pictures a name for portrayal, I would like to call them "youth."
It was the sweat of the lively playground, the laughter that flew in the hot sun, the unspeakable heart buried in the heart, the unspeakable heart that ran wildly through the long street, in the dappled twilight, through the light and shadow.
Remember the wish you made in the starry sky holding hands? Remember the dream of going away with the wind on a paper airplane? Remember hiding in a corner together, encouraging each other, and shedding tears together? ...... It is like a twinkling star in the night sky. The endless canopy is the stage on which you and I meet; the twinkling of the stars, the dance of you and me, weaves this brilliant night.
But in this unexpected rain of smoke and rain in Jiangnan, I met you again; you and I stood on the side of the road, across the passing vehicles, across the smoke and rain, looking at each other from a distance - you seem to have grown taller, become more beautiful, also stable, mature, no longer the girl who used to be frizzy and frizzy, talking and whirring; your eyebrows are written mature, but also full of strangeness.
I thought that when we were reunited for a long time, we should have a lot of things to say to each other, but when we met again, we didn't know where to start.
Over the years, we have separated different worlds, going to different worlds, going to different lives, and what we have touched, seen, and encountered around us are also completely different landscapes. The distance between the north and south of the sky, the division of the dawn of the sun, and the laughter and laughter of the past have all turned into a merciless rain that is difficult to describe.
Perhaps the thousands of words saved after parting have also become a glance at each other and a smile.
On the road of youth, we have finally reached the final fork in the road; on this road of separation, I have faded my juvenile clothes, and you have set sail to a long voyage; my way ahead does not see you, and your world has no self.
And our youth, however, eventually steamed under the scorching summer sun and went away with the wind. After many years, only a wordless smile in the misty smoke and rain is left, and after laughing, you and I each go to the end of the world.
After all, the glitz of things cannot stand the drift and vicissitudes of the years - fortunately, we still have the arrogance and pride engraved in our memories, enough to dye the gray-black parting into a brilliant glazed color.
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