Time slipped away from my body like I forgot to turn off the tap water. Reading "Seven Years of Mountain Residence" and seeing this sentence, I couldn't help but pause.
The sunlight peeked in from the window, climbed up the blue wall, and flowed like water, inch by inch, and the waterfall was like silk, with a soft and silky texture. The rich bamboo in the glass bottle added a few more yellow leaves, the roses were raised, the sunflowers were glazed, and the money grass was stained rusty. Only the bunch of dried flowers, the purple shards, were as fresh as ever. I always thought about taking it out and throwing it away, and I kept forgetting it, sometimes unintentionally, sometimes intentionally. They used to bring me joy so brilliantly. What I once liked, now I abandon it like a shoe, how to be fierce.
No matter how beautiful the flowers, no matter how beautiful people are, withering is inevitable, aging is certain, sooner or later. And time, eternal and eternal, is eternal. The sea is born in the night, and the river spring enters the old year. On the side of the sinking boat, a thousand sails leap past; before the sick tree, Wanmu Yingchun showed. Gratuitously reminds of the tentacles of vine plants. In spring, overnight, they emerge for a long time. It was as if a child was tiptoeing and stretching his neck, and his eyes were full of curiosity and joy. Everything in this world is waving in the spring breeze.
Some people say that being good at escaping is the greatest kindness that an adult shows when faced with the pressure of reality. But what is the significance of such goodwill? Want to do so much? Life is a practice, and everyone has their own destiny. Zen monks say that eating while eating and sleeping when sleeping is the best practice. Joy or sorrow, relief or regret, so many, can not be said, not to say.
That day walking on the street, I was suddenly tapped on the shoulder. Looking up, in the twilight, a strange face looked over with joy in his eyes. Surprised in his heart, "Teacher Wang, I am..." He said, casually wrapping his hands around the shoulders of a small woman, "Teacher Wang, this is my mother." "Oh my God! The white and beautiful boy in his memory is now wide-chested and thick-armed, and he already has the appearance of a fireworks life. After a few words of conversation, I learned a little about the trajectory of his life after college, and I hurriedly said goodbye, and I couldn't help but sigh in my heart.
I remember one time after morning class, I was grading my homework. He came in with a bun, grabbed two and put them on the test paper and said, "Teacher, eat first." "I was surprised in my heart, thinking that this bun must be eaten, so I didn't care about the red ink on my fingers, I grabbed it and ate it." In the empty classroom, he sat down to eat, and I sat on the podium to eat. Those two buns, which were not steaming hot, had been lying steaming in my stomach for so many years.
I also remember that he said in the text that the trouble and pain caused to him by the mother's birth of the second child. At that time, he was caught in the confusion and disappointment of the future, and he felt the difficulty and boredom of living. The teenager's mind was so sensitive and deep, I was shocked by the commission, and I found the right opportunity to talk to him, deliberately understating it, and only talking about the infinite possibilities of the future. I don't want to talk about such a heavy topic, even now, I neglect to talk about it. However, in the course of life, it needs some soothing of the cake, even if it is painted.
Many diseases, whether physical or psychological, medicine is only auxiliary, can be cured, in addition to time, there is love and hope. In the long river of time, where the lightning bolt burns, solid tree tumors will grow, overflowing with amber resin, and brilliantly refracting the sun's rays.
The lights flickered, the cars came and went, the bustle, and the joys and sorrows of the world were drowned in the increasingly thick night. Watch him take his mother's arm and leave, snuggle high and low, burly and thin, that kind of back, beautiful and warm.
The green was getting darker and darker, dark and thick, and there was no longer the fresh and light feeling it had before. There was only the sound of birds, as if forever young, without a trace of vicissitudes, without a speck of dust. Every morning, before the rising sun rises, they dedicate the most beautiful songs to the world, song after song of joy, never tired. In the morning light, on the empty ground, the little sparrow jumped and jumped, and the small mouth chirped and pecked. Thinking that you should bring a little broken rice in your bag, will that lively and handsome bird be a little more joyful?
However, after two or three days, the yellow kudzu tree that had just shaken off a body of dust had flourished and flourished. Overnight, arrow-like spores spread out and the scales flew like rain. The few bird nests that used to hang on the sparse branches were drowned by the rolling green waves. Passing under the tree again, the cool green shroud came down. Above the canopy, the breeze plays and the birds and finches jump. In the endless emptiness, the sun is far and near, above the green leaves, within the body, wandering and wandering. Remembering Yu Xiuhua said, the sun retreated from the courtyard, retreating so slowly, and there were many pauses in between, like a kind of choking...