Liu Yong wrote that "words to seven points, wine to slightly drunk; Pen and ink are sparse, and the words are gentle; Simple and broken, implicitly implied, is the highest state of endless beauty. In his eyes, the words that are simple but not restrained, and that are vulgar but full of reverie are the best.
I think that since "words are like their people", perhaps everyone is as beautiful as words because they are not finished. So, with a curious heart, I looked at them.
The place of vaccination is the back door of the hospital, outside the door is a busy street, and inside the door is a long corridor. Pedestrians always have to look at me a few times, and when they see what is going on, their eyes flash with curiosity, and they cross the long corridor and make friends with me, with a dull beauty.
It was a bit rainy on the day
At the corner at the end of the promenade sat a guard uncle who did not often come forward, but only talked to us when the door was just opened and rested, revealing confidence and happiness. Uncle Jing is full of taste, the words are round, capable and spirited, and familiar with humor. The watch on his wrist has been polished for many years, but it is still full of brilliance. And the ring on the finger, unstained and dusty, is particularly eye-catching. He looked at something, and I looked at him, thinking about the grand plan under the iceberg.
That's how he sat all the time
At noon, I wandered around with my box lunch, looking for a bench, and finally sat down by the road. There were a lot of cars coming and going, and there were always a few people who turned their heads to look at me, and maybe they were also looking at my shadow. Tired, hungry, and no longer distracted by the traffic, just want to hand the food next to you, looking at the distance sluggishly. However, the crowds are crowded with people, and the sun rises and sets every day.
A sea of glittering cars
Uncle Guard pulled open the iron door and began the afternoon "business". He was a little shocked to tell us that at noon there was a ninety-year-old man born in 1932 who came to get the first shot. Although I didn't see the old man, I thought about it, and it had a strong impact. What kind of story do I think made her come?
A torrential rain fell from the sky, and two "guests" came for a long time. The old man born in 1949 had inconvenient legs and feet, moved five meters, and then went to the hospital to borrow a wheelchair. When the child's hair was also gray, trembling and majestic, he helped the old man onto the pedal and pushed forward slowly. Before leaving, he turned around and handed me a cigarette, with a light in his eyes, but unfortunately I couldn't smoke, but just took over the wheelchair in the hospital.
I always felt that it was not good to take pictures of them, so I went to the Internet to find photos of the same mood
After a long time, a 51-year-old grandmother came to register, looked at her ID card, and sighed, it turned out that the post-70s were already half a hundred years old. She came here from Jiangxi to work, illiterate, and repeatedly muttered in her mouth, "When I was a child, my family favored sons over daughters, I didn't read books, and I never recognized words." The voice was vague, and we struggled to identify her residence, but it was very lively and eager, one bite at a time. I am also a person who has left home, and perhaps for them, my hometown is home from all over the world.
The setting sun in the sky guides the direction of home
After work, passing through the market, the old people hovered in the stalls with their hands behind their backs. Passing by the school, the children carried their school bags and talked. The slow sunset reflects on the old man is a touch of vicissitudes, and the reflection on the child is a bit of vitality.