Xiao Ke said: "The world is very romantic, romantic like a solo trip." He has been to many, many places, such as Paris of Dreams, Finland of Snow, Japan of Maple, Egypt of Summer, in his long travel diary, there are fairy tale princes and Cinderella living in Yosemite National Park in the United States, Peter Pan conceived of never--land, Elm Wild Willow cycling through the streets of Sakura Blowing Empty... I said, I also want to go to many places, to Santorini, Greece, to see Plato's self-land, to trinidad and Tobago seafront, to feel the caribbean sea style, to Italy's Dauromet mountain, to experience the majestic mountains of the Val di Funes countryside...
Before that, I had never been anywhere, sitting in less than 10 square meters of space, looking at the ninety-five thousand miles of gorgeous books, fingertips constantly sketching imaginary places, inaccurate, unreal, dreamlike, or illusory, like a faded black-and-white movie of 1990, I couldn't see the color of the boy's shirt, I couldn't remember how the girl confessed affectionately, and only the bicycle was left day after day on the endless boulevard. Foreshadowing, suspense, ups and downs, climaxes... Regularly rebuked me: It's time to go out and walk.
The plan is set and the trip is coming.
But suddenly came to mind those deep-rooted characters, the assassins in the night, the chivalrous warriors who fought in the sword, the cowboys with two guns, the spies with a cold look... I wanted to imitate them deliberately, but as a real person, I could only stop. Their travels are always so casual and the itinerary is always so clear. For me, I don't have too much feeling about traveling, but I vaguely remember the saying in Paradise Movie Song: "If you don't go out and walk around, you think this is the world." "I thought: If I don't go out and walk around, I think that a few distinct characters represent the image of the world. In this way, my thinking is indeed a bit funny.
I wasn't a step-by-step person, and I only knew the day before I left that I had to straighten out my luggage, "notebooks, cameras, clothes, and ...", and I couldn't remember what else to bring.
Suddenly, the whole person seems to be confused like a memory vacancy, just like Evan in "Butterfly Effect" casually flipping through the diary, looking at the empty starry sky, thinking about the past and the future, it seems that there is really a force that can change the past and the future, thoughts and memories fight each other, let yourself fall into the situation of a bystander, helpless. Eyes open, eyes closed, the hour hand only took a small grid. I don't know if tomorrow's journey will be smooth.
In my sleepy eyes, I saw Ming Xiang in "Etudes" riding a bicycle, alone on a seven-day and seven-night bicycle journey around the island. When he was lonely, he played a guitar on the beach, accompanied by the sound of the moonlight and the sea tide, using the earth as a bed, sleeping on the spot; when he was hungry, he shared a bento with the factory women who were traveling while renting a tour bus to protest the collapse of the factory; when he was tired, he stopped at his grandparents' house... Maybe that's a real kind of travel.
……
Daylight cuts through the window slit, gently dividing the entire bizarre dream. The next day, I started the third stop of the journey, Yichang.
A backpack, a few books, all your favorite songs, a one-way ticket, a dashing heart, a trip alone, and maybe meet your truest self on the road.
2
At that time. Evening. Twilight fades.
I remembered a sentence in "Ten Years of Backpacking": "The Italian night in July is cool, I get into my sleeping bag, I don't feel cold, look up at the stars, the brilliant river, the warm quilt." It was a very warm language, but now I can't appreciate it. There is no green-skinned train crashing, no silent era steaming crowd, chimneys and shouting are all lost in memory. On the platform, standing full of young men and women, 10cm high heels, the sound of kicking; square iPads, scratches coming and going on fingertips; anxious urging, numb eyes...
Actually, a person's trip is really lonely. There is no longer the fireworks of the pure age, and the things in the books and screens are completely lost in the dust of time. Carrying a backpack, shuttling between the digitally arranged carriages, the probe will be uneasy and panicked between the high-rise buildings, taking unfamiliar roads, watching unfamiliar landscapes, listening to unfamiliar songs, and then inadvertently remembering a moment.
At this moment, I am sitting on the K5529. 04。 A train from Wuchang to Yichang East. Next to him was a big man in his early 30s, and on the left was a sweet-looking girl, very quiet, no one spoke, just each controlling the items in his hands. I closed my eyes and felt the train moving forward at an unknown acceleration, the lights dim, with a hypnotic warmth, a smooth gliding feeling, which made me glance to the left. Feeling that he had a bit of a Jack's flavor reminded me of the scene described in The Great Road: "I lay down and used a newspaper as a pillow, and high above me were blinking stars, and when the train bent, the constellations were drawn up and down in an arc, looking at them, and I slept." "But I couldn't fall asleep.
He took a copy of Jane Eyre, put on his headphones, opened and closed the book, and repeated it in his mouth, not knowing whether Hugo or Shakespeare had such a great ability to make people read a book so faithfully. And the Yangtze River, the mountains, the woods outside the window, stretching and constantly impacting my retina, with my infinite doubts, all the way through to the unknown. Eyes casually stole everything around them, and loaded everything into our square inch of paper: It is a process. A discover。
The scenery of the car window slowly began to speed and change. In the headphones is Banderay's "Early Morning", there are birds, there is water, very quiet piano music, burst after burst into my dreams. Chen Qizhen sang in "The Meaning of Travel": You have seen many beautiful views, you have seen many beautiful women, you have lost every short time on the map, you have tasted the Paris of the night, you have stepped on the snowy Beijing, you have memorized every truth you love in books, but you can't say why you love me, but you can't say which expression you appreciate me, but you can't say on what occasion I have moved you, can't tell the reason for leaving...
It seems that all of this is like the elongated blue subtitles of European movies, which slowly disappear at the end of the play, leaving only the long-lasting and unforgettable tone, and the journey has just begun at the end, with the confused definition of the lyrics.
When the silence left with time, the couples of men and women in the back row finally couldn't help but be lonely, playing cards, snorting melon seeds, laughing... It's very unpleasant. And with Chinese instinctive cowardice, no one went up to say anything, just a strong increase in the volume of the headphones. With a few letters in my hand and the story in the headphones, my mind finally turned to another focus.
Guapi lives in a city far away from me, as far as the railway is immeasurable, and she knows me in the text, I don't know what kind of coincidence, this day's college student has become my most loyal reader, before the college entrance examination, she said a lot to me, can have the opportunity to go to her. But now. I sailed to the opposite place, farther and farther away, and the university life she described to me became clearer and clearer, and the whole senior year of high school was like a magical journey, spent in her instructions, and when June was approaching, the novel was not finished, and my trip had begun. Perhaps in the furthest part of summer, ten years of time makes it discovered that nothing but memory can be permanent. If one day, the memory really took me to that place, I can only say that I encountered one percent coincidence. Very happy.
……
The glimmer of the setting sun has been lost under the horizon, the train sleeps slowly under the blurred sky like Van Gogh's intentions, the familiar place has been blocked by distance, evaporating into a fog-like barrier; the warm yellow lights on the road as the sky is getting dark, making me forget my original direction...
Carrying bags, when I walked to the exit gate, many people were waiting there.
Unloading my luggage, I wrote a sentence from City Pictorial in my diary: Hurry up and get on the road, don't one day, we said at each other's funeral, if only we had gone at that time.
3
At that time. Late at night. It's night.
Looking up at the ceiling, I wanted to ask, "Do you remember that the stars blink, do you remember dreaming of going to the sky when you were a child?" In such years, we still have time and can still walk, why not on the road. "
No one answered, only my lonely response plastered all over the bedroom characters. Slightly blurred stroke edges. The unsettled and straight line segments, and the distance of about six centimeters, are in the arrogant patrol of dust, silently staying in this lost fragment. The moonlight swirled out the window, leaving my mind blank.
Open the computer, QQ came a lot of news. A lot of it is about the topic of travel, she said, Dalian is a good place, that place has the sea, maybe the ocean is a person's yearning, I have not seen the sea, I want to go; he said Shanghai is a good place, that place is very prosperous, maybe the hustle and bustle is a person's vision, I have not felt, I want to go... Too many places have not been, but I do not know where to start, and at this moment, I have come to an inexplicable city, planning to climb the mountain, planning to swim in the water, planning to use words as a horse, keyboard as my dry food, and start my casual trip.
For tomorrow, I have always been confused, I don't know what next thing will fall on my head, because many times, I read life from the movie, the journey continues, why panic, why worry. As the dialogue in "The 36th Story": "The city is empty, the story is written by people". I wrote the story with my tracks. And that story unfolds like this: "One day a painter woke up in a forty-story hotel room, standing in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window, and suddenly found that there was no one in the city. He had a clever move, drew a girl on the paper, carefully cut it, let her fly out with the wind, the girl roamed alone in the city, one person drinking coffee, one person looking at the scenery. The painter thought she was lonely, so he drew another boy and let him fly out, but the paper boy flew in another direction, landed in another place, and then drank coffee alone, looking at the newspaper alone..."