Late at night, there is a lot of wind, and the sandalwood is swirling around. Holding a wooden heart roll in his hand, he remembers his youth.
"Looking back now, it is a terrible prophecy, and in my life, there are indeed many such things, more than the bowls of the Yue kiln, the things and people that are a hundred times more precious than a thousand times more precious, and some of them have been thrown away one by one, and some of them have even been broken." Mr. Mu Xin wrote.
<h1>01、</h1>
The breeze is soft like water, enough to soothe Pyongyang and the sky. At this time, the night is quiet as sleep. I like to read Mu Xin's books in each season, the four seasons are different, and the feeling of nature is different. This article "Childhood Goes With It" especially touched me. Even reading this, there is no time that is not a mixture of feelings.
When I was a child, every night of thunderstorm, I hid in my mother's bedding, and let the window be dangerous, and there was always a peaceful harbor in front of me. Now that I think about it, the trance is the same as before. I don't know how many rainy nights, by the bright lights, the family is sleeping peacefully, only one page of comfort.
"The teenager listened to the rain song upstairs, and the red candles dimmed. In the prime of life, listening to the rain passenger ship, the river is wide and the clouds are low, and the broken geese are called the west wind. And now listening to the rain monks, the sideburns have been stars. Sorrow and joy are always merciless, and before a term of office, it drips until dawn. "I think "Yu Meiren" is Jiang Jie's most praised old work, written when he was frustrated. Middle age, prime age and twilight years, the only way to go, will wander between joy and sorrow.
Life is like a rain, through the "big pearls and small pearls falling on the jade plate" like the brisk and flamboyant green onion years, tossing and turning for a few hours, every time to meet the middle-aged spirit of the rain, and finally "there is no wind and rain and no sunshine", which is rooted in the twilight of the crisp spring rain.
He is old, but his heart suddenly longs to follow the vague imprints and find the hopes he has had.
Wood-heart paintings
<h1>02、</h1>
"Set out for the world, exile, thousands of mountains and rivers, the ends of the earth, all the way to the motherland, the hometown."
I think that when I knew that there was a wooden heart in this world, this was the reason. After all, I don't know how he downplayed this painful process, and please forgive me for not really empathizing with it, or speculating about the state of mind he expressed this feeling.
I only remember my gaze stagnating on the word "exile", and I could not bear to look at what kind of stoic writer was hidden behind these words for a long time. With a free pen and a rich soul, he was able to bear the heavy shackles of life. He is using silent words to express the many hardships of life and the many blessings of life.
Now that everything is becoming clearer, the thoughts that Mr. Dunjue has been hiding in his chest for several years may have also been out of his hands and broken, accompanied by a floating bowl, out of nowhere, and then drifted away from childhood. "Where the rain passes through the sky and the clouds open, the color of the person will do the future", his drifting heart should always take care of each other with the celadon water bowl, drifting far away on the paper, and the ink does not look back. I know that throughout his life, although he is too far away from the outside world, he will sooner or later keep the clouds open and see the moon.
Where should one place one's trust in oneself? Clinging to things, how to expect things to be broken; clinging to people, perhaps people will eventually fall apart. In the final analysis, it is better to return to the basics, cling to the heart, and seek stability. If you can have nothing in your heart, it will be difficult to stir up dust.
<h1>03、</h1>
Exiled for a long time, Mr. Mu Xin is simple as usual, and his mind is clear. Over the decades, several volumes of manuscripts have been opened, revised, discarded, and revisited, and the sixty-six pages written in prison have been carefully folded and sewn into cotton pants.
If Chen Danqing had not introduced it in detail, I could not imagine the loneliness that permeated everywhere this word. "Man is afraid of loneliness, afraid to the point of shamelessness!" Between the lines, bits and pieces of the past. I suddenly witnessed this pair of "old and young guesses", hovering on the platform, each lighting a cigarette. Then, before the words could be spoken, the smoke had dissipated.
Writing the case, this lost bowl disturbed the thoughts for no reason, and a low groan came from the bottom of the bowl: "Go and go, my book, you have entered the world from now on, and there are many evils and fewer auspiciousness." Looking at the bookshelf, Mr. Mu Xin would have smiled if he knew.
Almost all of his manuscripts have been set off from prison, exiled, thousands of mountains and rivers, the end of the cape, and finally returned to his hometown.
At night in Beijing, there are always bright lights. At the high-rise building, one figure after another passed through the curtain, tired of the next day's rush, and it was difficult to really calm down. And the evening sun that is still far away from here may have slept peacefully. Then go to sleep, and with the gentle wind, Mo is stained with dust by the noise, for its deceased master, guarding the peace of this side, giving him a corner where his soul can rest.
Re-reading Mu Xinwen this morning, fortunately, Mr. Never gave up his obsession and did not dare to teach everything to flow with childhood.
If his face is still clear, his thoughts have not been broken, and his sideburns have been starry, he should be a kind eyebrow and good eyes. Sitting in front of a wicker chair, lighting a cigarette, looking around at the young faces around him, smiling and quietly opening this time of wooden heart that belonged only to him and was not as ethereal as smoke.