Song of Youth (two essays)

Walk in the rain

Receiving her message, it was after he had coaxed the child to sleep, how sudden and so long black text appeared on the white background:

"This light rainy night reminds me of the scene when we walked in the rain."

She had never been in contact with him for more than twenty years, and now he was the father of two children with sideburns like silk, one big and one small. From that line of text, it was as if she had seen a slightly unwilling sigh; in her tone, it was as if she had seen that youthful face.

He didn't reply to her message, and if it wasn't for that message, she would never have broken into his head again. The tide of the past generally flooded his heart, the cigarette butt suddenly reflected the faint smile lines on his face, and several wrinkles of different shades on the corners of his forehead outlined the hardships and bitterness of life he had experienced.

In that year, on that rainy afternoon, the sky was sprinkled with cattle drizzle, just like the rain of this night, it was most likely to dye thick acacia. Under an umbrella, the two walked side by side on the runway of the university campus playground. On a rainy day, there was no one on the campus, and there was no noise in the noise, only the sound of raindrops falling to the ground and tapping the umbrella surface, like a note jumping into the hearts of two people. A ripple appeared in the low-lying area, and the two men silently stepped over at the same time, and moved closer to each other. The two of them said the previous sentence after the other, and when they were silent, they felt that the drizzle of lightning was more nourishing than the vows of the mountains and the sea. Walking like this, the feeling of happiness spread in my heart, as if I should say something affirmative, and as if I didn't have to say anything...

The sudden hysteria of the baby in the house while he was asleep pulled him back from his memory, and he quickly ran into the house from the balcony.

If youth is forever beautiful and can only live forever in memory, he feels the shadow of twilight descending on a certain corner of the soul, despite nurturing a baby with vigor and hope.

Winter photos

It was an ordinary town, an ordinary street, and there was an ordinary photo studio on the street, and that's where the story began.

It was a long snowy winter morning, the snow stopped and the cold wind did not stop, and the cold air tightly wrapped the people who walked out the door, dropping more than ten degrees Celsius of enthusiasm and excitement.

It was three junior high school boys, he, Chen and Wang, usually the best classmates in school, at the end of the winter vacation, I don't know who proposed it, came to the photo studio to take a photo as a souvenir.

He remembered very clearly the still cold winter day, when the sun was not much, the snow on the street was swept out of a road, and there were few pedestrians. Fifteen years ago, the scene and everything in the old street are still vividly remembered, and the happy and carefree study life of Wang and Chen is like yesterday, and the outline of Wang and Chen's faces still faintly appears in front of them.

The photo is frozen in the moment when the three people happily hook up and face the camera together, and modern technology records the youthful smiles and childish faces of the three people. He felt that without this photograph, he would not be able to remember that winter; or, in other words, to remember those years, he would have skipped that winter.

A thin photograph that carries all the happy memories of a certain youth, like a yellow tunnel, can be extradited back to the brief years of the old winter street. When youth is gone, a steady stream of happiness can be drawn from photos. Because once the good life is gone, it is often imagined to be rendered with a layer of magnificent brilliance in the memory and appears even better.