Night by the lake

Written by Sheng Fu Word Count: 1576

It was a normal night in the days of Wishful.

I felt like I was being dragged by something, and I unconsciously came to a lake that I didn't come to often. Ride along the greenway and towards its depths. It's quieter, it's a bay in the middle of a lake, like a pond in its own right. Frogs like this environment very much, this is the world where they breed, the frog's voice is clear, echoing in time and space, making people feel that this is not like a city, but a dream idyll.

Pond side aquatic plants

I'm not here to listen to frogs tonight, I'm not in the mood. My mind was a little troubled, and I felt like my soul was going to wander away to a strange and distant land, and it was a bit of a godlessness.

There was a row of fir trees on the water's edge, and I sat down next to one of the trees on one side. The heart still can't be still, as if the thing you want is lost, you know where you lost it, but you can't get it back, it's not so much helpless as powerless. The heart is suddenly disturbed, and I don't know what to do.

Look at the aquatic plants on the shore of your feet, like white grass stalks. The frogs are hidden in them, and only the frogs are not visible, and they can only be found when one or two of them are disturbed. If you want to see what they call, what they do, or what they look like, it is wishful thinking to the naked eye.

So, I stood up and subconsciously walked forward, looking at the weeds under my feet as I walked, and I didn't recognize them. The flashlight of the mobile phone was turned on, and it looked stinging in the dark night, and the field of vision was very weak, and I couldn't help but open my eyes wide.

The shore of the lake is in the shape of a sloping dimple, and the small surface of the lake, the dim light and shadow, feel that there is danger. As I moved forward, I felt the same person patrolling the lake opposite. He holds a stick or fork in his hand. We don't interfere with each other, I know that he exists, and he seems to have no self at all. I could feel that his heart was at peace. And I, on the other hand, could hardly be quiet for a moment.

I think of an older sister who casually told me about her Christian faith during the day. She said that God is the greatest, the Creator of all things, and that trusting Jesus can make her happy. She also said that if you believe in Jesus, you can go to heaven when you die. She even told me about the wonderful scene of heaven, which fascinated me a little for a while. But I refused in my heart, and I wanted to be religious, but I couldn't. My mind is too easily distracted by reality.

I feel like I'm an outcast of the gods. Yes, isn't it better to believe in one thing than to believe in nothing? Otherwise, is your knowledge, mind, financial power, etc., strong enough to support yourself in the world?

As I thought about this, I turned my head again and found that the person on the other side had gone down to the lake. He rowed a small wooden boat alone, and the stick (fork) in his hand turned into an oar, and he rowed one after another, gently, without making a sound. It can be felt that he is paddling towards a certain direction and goal. I guess he's going to fish. Sure enough, he stopped in the middle of the lake, and reeled in the net, and when he cast it?

I retracted my gaze, and the person had come to the location where there were several longan trees, and I remembered that there were seedlings in this area. "Pumping seedlings" was my snack when I was a child, and it was the shoots of thatch that grew again in the spring. Break it before it blooms, peel off the outer coating, and there is a white velvet core inside, which tastes slightly sweet and fragrant. The roots of thatch were also eaten when I was a child.

Pumping seedlings

I searched the area of two or three meters under my feet, and sure enough, I found the pumped seedlings. Not many, three, a lot of them have bloomed. I smoked two, but didn't peel them to eat. I don't think I'm trying to eat it, but the feeling, the sound, the memory when I smoke it, the way I cut it. When I was in elementary school, I had it on the side of the road, and I smoked a handful and carried it in my pocket or school bag. When I think about it, it's really happy and carefree, and it's nostalgic. Now, that feeling will never be felt again.

I took a picture of the seedlings being drawn. It's just that the mobile phone is not better at taking pictures at night than during the day, and I don't know the skills of photography, so I can recognize it when I shoot it.

In this way, I went around the lake, but fortunately the lake is not big, in fact, it is more accurate to say that the pond is located. The benches on the short bridge that connected the lake and the pond were removed.

When I came to the tree where I had sat before, the picture of the city I saw jumped and flashed in my mind, and there was desire everywhere, and everyone was doing his thing in his corner. In order to survive, or reluctantly, or happy, or helpless, all kinds of things. I realized that in the vast world of heaven and earth, there is no difference between man and other animals and plants. People are like ants, which is the best description and metaphor.

Then he looked at the lake, and the man loomed, as if he was still collecting his net in the lake. I wanted to open my mouth and call out to him, and ask him who he was? Why was he still fishing so late? I thought about it, why bother, and swallowed it back.

In fact, there is no second person in the here and now besides me.

When leaving, I unconsciously urinated under the tree. When I urinated, I looked at the night in front of me—the pond, the sound of frogs, the chirping of insects, the blurred lights, the boundless night, and the high sky, and I suddenly remembered a sentence in the elementary school text: If you get lost in the wilderness...... I can't remember the following sentence, but I gave it a sentence, "If you get lost in the wilderness, find a big tree and pee." Ah, boring nights.

This is the pumping of seedlings, like arrows

Blossomed

The night grass is delicious

Bamboo by the lake