Walking the streets of Boston, the sun sprinkled in the sky is free and warm.
I walked more casually, following a general direction to appreciate the ancient and vibrant nature of the city.
I don't know which street corner to turn, and I will encounter something different. Or architecture, or people or things, I am moved...
(1) Pay tribute to the lives lost
"Listen, my children, you will hear the legend of Paul Levier's midnight gallop..."
That night, the horses galloped...
PAUL REVERE RODE FAST IN THE DARK TO REPORT TO HIS COMPATRIOTS READY FOR BATTLE. The next day, war broke out in Lexington and the American Revolutionary War began. The greatest piece of American history began...
At this time, I stood in front of the statue of Paul Levier and realized that the road under my feet was the road of freedom. The red-brick road, which zigzags for more than three kilometers, is an important road in Boston's historical development.
Old Granary Burying Ground, King's Chapel and Burying Ground, and Boston Common are all on this road.
OPPOSITE THE STATUE OF PAUL LEVIE, YOU CAN SEE THE WHITE MINARET, THE OLD NORTH CHURCH, LOCATED AT 193 SALEM STREET IN BOSTON NORTH, IS THE OLDEST CHURCH IN BOSTON AND WAS BUILT BY THE BISHOP IN 1723.
"If you come by land, light a lamp; If coming by sea, light two lamps. ”
That night, two signal lights were lit on the 173-foot-tall minaret, indicating that British troops were coming from sea. So Paul Leville rode across the Charles River to Lexington to report the letter, writing the legend of American history.
The small courtyard of the Old North Church is quaint and quiet, with a few large trees and a small garden. In one part of the courtyard, several wooden stakes formed a semicircle, ropes one after another, and small signs were hung with small signs. It is dedicated to the memory of those who lost their lives defending the country.
Death will eventually bring those who have experienced the storms of war into the earth, where there is no more war, it is a place of peace and happiness.
The lives lost will be remembered...
If a country loses its historical memory, its citizens will also forget who they are.
So, I saw cemeteries everywhere, in the middle of the city...
Suffering and death are part of life. The cemetery, which also became a part of the life of the city, was commemorated, remembered, and became a different scenery of the city.
In the cemetery, from time to time, you can see people generously explaining, or interpreting history, or venerating heroes. And those of us who come from all over the world, immerse ourselves in it.
I was infected by an emotion. The city, with its lost lives, is expressed in a more open way.
Open..., history, and culture.
(2) Public libraries
It's a city that loves to read.
In lawn rooms, oceans, and leisure chairs in parks, people can be seen reading with a book in their hands.
Just basking in the sun, lying in a wanton posture, immersed in the lines of text on the pages...
"Aren't their eyes uncomfortable? In the white daylight? "I questioned my son.
"They adapted."
Adapt? - I laughed.
I was already walking in the daylight with my bare arms and legs. The sun's light soaks into the skin little by little..., at this time, I feel like a plant that needs sunlight, greedily absorbing light. As for the color of the skin, whether it is black or white, there are all kinds of colors on the street.
Accommodating all directions, it is the civilization of a city. With top institutions like Harvard and Massachusetts, Boston has become a well-deserved cultural city.
It is said that highly educated people abound, and there are people picked up everywhere on the street, that is, research students, doctors...
Or high education brings high income and high consumption, and most of the hotel accommodation is close to three hundred knives.
So, I was forced out of the city to find a place to live. Go to Walden and find Thoreau's cottage.
In Thoreau's secluded secret forest, if you pick up a copy of Walden and read it, can it feel the same as sitting in the library?
Boston's public libraries are so unusual.
From the outside, it looks unpretentious, and when you go in, you see another world.
I walked a short walk through Boston's parks to get here.
The square outside the library gate, one left and one right, two sculptures. The left hand holds the earth symbolizes science, and the right hand holds a paintbrush, symbolizing art.
The statue of the head of the goddess of wisdom on the vault of the library's main entrance is engraved with the following line: "Free to all" (free to all).
Walking into the library, passing the foyer, the imposing arches, the steps that go up, and the magnificent marble decorations are greeted by me, which almost made me suspect that I had entered the temple of art by mistake.
Up the steps, two male lions lie on high pedestals at the corners of the stairs. It is a sculpture in honor of the Massachusetts Second and Twentieth Infantry Regiments who died in the American Civil War.
On the second floor was a wide hall, with frescoes, one after another, adorning the walls of the hall, and I seemed to enter a museum again...
I've been looking at the museum for a few days now. From MOMA in New York, Yale University Art Museum, to the MFA Museum in Boston... It seems that after the heart of the rainbow, the magnificent artistic treasures of the flowers no longer amaze me.
But one place here touched my heart... ,—— was the big reading hall. The hall is quiet and dark, withdrawn from the hustle and bustle, connected to itself.
The lamps on the reading table, one by one, shone with an orange warm light under the green lampshade...
Grab a book and sit down. Sit down, read a book or meditate. Let the heart listen to music and poetry, knowledge and wisdom, truth and romance...
That's what libraries are all about. It's like Thoreau's cabin, like Walden...
(iii) Walden, visit Thoreau's cottage
"The way, go wrong."
At the Boston South booked hotel, our car drove to a hotel in the north close to the name.
"Yes, it's also right, I was trying to take you to see Walden, you must want to see it..."
Of course, the son also knows his mother's preferences.
Walking on the road these days, in addition to the bustle of the city, the suburbs are more secluded, full of dense and tall woods, green lawns, and houses one by one...
Sharing quiet, each with its own boundaries, how comfortable it is to live in such a place, I can't help but sigh again and again.
Thoreau said that Walden Lake is often used to gouge ice in winter.
At this time, it was summer in Walden. It is suitable for swimming in the lake and basking in the sun on the shore.
So, Walden and country life connect...
I walked along the lake and found the trail, which was signposted to the direction of Thoreau's hut.
Meet swimmers along the lake, meet fishing. Near six o'clock, the light shines through the woods and the quiet lake.
A walk along the lake doesn't take much time. The son said, walking and walking, how can the body become light.
Man is a little animal for running around, I said.
The tree, tall and straight, has seen this all these days. There are pines and trees whose names are unknown, all with straight trunks stretching out into the air.
On a tree, there is a sign: HOUSE SITE. I knew Thoreau's cabin was almost here.
A pile of stones, a sign, a few stone pillars.... Slightly surprised, I thought I would come across a wooden house.
Several stone pillars, demarcating the border. It was a small space, and it was Thoreau's infinite place. Here, he wrote Walden, which belongs to the world.
If I read the book, and then look at Thoreau, and look at Walden, would it feel richer?
I'll have time to see it yet!
I came here like a passer-by in the countryside. I came here with a curiosity, and I heard that a famous person lived here and wrote a great book...
（四）Museum of Fine Arts Boston
"Museum of Fine Arts Boston", in Chinese search, is often translated as "Museum of Fine Arts, Boston".
I don't know why it was translated this way? I thought, it covers more.
It is the culmination of art and culture. From ancient times to the present, from the breadth of regions and categories to the richness of categories, it can be called scale. It unfolds the stories of various aspects of human experiences in different regions and connects the world.
On my first day in Boston, I made it my preference for the trip, spending seven hours in the museum from ten a.m. to five p.m.
There are so many things in front of you, from the meticulous beginning, to the rough browsing... Suddenly, I sat on the sofa to rest, and I unconsciously slept for more than half an hour.
Asian art, Oceania, African art, Egyptian art..., classical art gathered here.
China, Japan, Korea..., bronze, ceramics and paintings...
Titian, Rembrandt, Manet..., paintings by celebrities abound. Paul Cézanne, Rejoa, Monet...
Entering Monet's exhibition hall, a woman in a bright red suit holding a folding fan, looking back sideways..., the painting is tall and colorful.
Usually, I look at Monet's landscape paintings more, and my impression of him is mostly left on labels such as "Monet's water lilies" and "Monet's light and shadow".
On the contrary, it was his such a work that made me understand more that his wife was Japanese and he liked ukiyo-e. In this painting, his wife Camille was used as his model.
I can never define a person alone, if I see his eight points, there are always two points, which belong to his other world, which I cannot see.
Several of his water lilies, painted a little scribbled and casual, as if there is no more intention..., I prefer to see water lilies in infinite light and shadow at the MOMA pavilion in New York...
Perhaps I shouldn't have been so shallow in stating my point of view.
Monet suffered from eye diseases in his later years, and his creations gradually changed from clear to mysterious and dreamy, to soft light and shadow. Monet opened his new eyes...
The world is impermanent, and he no longer runs around as he did when he was younger. He sat quietly in his garden, painting one water lily after another.
The sky is reflected in the water, the water lilies bloom between the clouds...
Where do we come from? Who are we? Where are we going? 》
When Gauguin created this work, he was destitute, his life fell into a trough, and his tragic fate always joked with him, and God refused to take him away if he wanted to die after taking arsenic.
Perhaps it was the passage between life and death that allowed him to have such a work expression, such a philosophical questioning.
He created this work in Tahiti.
At that time he broke with civilization and left Paris for Tahiti, where he set out on his way alone. It was a turning point in his life, and many of his works were completed in Tahiti. As he himself said, he was a great artist, he knew it well.
"I'm a kid, I'm a wild man, I'm going to keep drawing..."
(5) Afterword
As a city in sync with American history, I want to talk and see, I want to integrate myself into the streets, behind every red-walled house.
Push open the window and the interior and exterior blend together.
On the street, amphibious vehicles slowly drove by...
In the park, leisure tourists are accepted, and homeless people are not refused.
Everyone has everyone's story, every building has the history of each building, every school has the culture of each school...
All is a thick book, open it.
I came here after three years of silence, walking in the buttery sun, gently blowing in the breeze, and seeing the city like a fertile summer garden...