Bao Limin's Exquisite Prose Appreciation: Night Train (Idyllic Memories of Night And Movement of Cars)

Hanging on the window at night, it obscures a wandering heart, and the night car is like a fish in the deep sea, surrounded by deep unknowns.

The train is like a living creature in the night, and the brightness around it is constantly breaking through the darkness. And in the car, the presence of the night is rarely felt, except for the sleepy travel companion. Or lying on a sleeper, the rumbling sound is far away, and the curtains block the night. Occasionally, the corner of the curtain is lifted, and the gaze blends with the night outside, and only the occasional light crosses the eyes. It was as if it was beyond the dark night, just watching a dream.

In fact, I prefer to take a car, the road extends in the dark, closer to the land than the railway, closer to the night. The lights are usually not turned on in the car, so the whole person melts into the darkness, and the shadows of the trees on both sides of the car window dye the night light no longer single. If on a summer night, the car window is slightly open, and the long wind carries warmth, with the smell of crops not far away, it is like throwing into a kind embrace. When there is a moon, I will look at the round face through the window, and it will follow our car, change the angle, and smile at me. The clear light sprinkled and washed my heart clear, so that the night was gentle in my eyes.

Even nostalgic for the dust of the car driving out of fashion, flying a smell of hometown. Sometimes the road passes through the trees, the moon is hanging high, looking up, like a silhouette on the branches, the bird's nest enters the softest corner of the heart in a warm posture. Sometimes driving through the village, in the deep night, occasionally one or two houses will be lit up, and all the past in the heart will be warmed. I thought about what a warm scene behind that window, under the lamp. At this moment, if you leave your hometown, your homesickness is even stronger; if you go home, your heart has arrived first.

On the train at night, what I remember is the slight bump when I slept on the sleeper. After the lights were turned off, the carriage was dark. At such a moment, I feel connected with the night outside, and when I think of the books I read when the lights are not turned off, my mind is extremely delicate and quiet. In the gentle shaking, I think of the cradle of my childhood, and I think of the night sailing ship I have seen, and the roar of the train also fades into the sound of flowing water in the reverie's heart. What gently sent me to sleep was such a subtle feeling, although I was drifting, it was a rare tranquility and tranquility.

I remember once, on a cold winter night, a group of us took a medium-sized bus to another place. It was more than ten o'clock in the night, and the snow was flying, and the car was driving the mountain road. In the snow light, you can see the shadows of the mountains, and the trees, at this moment, the mind is delicate enough to capture every snowflake that falls on the car window. Farther outside, the north wind swirled and fell with snowflakes. The roar of the engine seemed to be silent in the extremely quiet background, and for a moment, the sound of the wings of the birds flapping when they were startled could be heard in the trees next to the road. In such a cold mountain, such a snowy night, what kind of birds are still perched in the cold?

The most memorable is still when I was a teenager, on a warm autumn night, I drove a carriage with my family to the field to pull corn. When I returned, it was already dark, and the lights in the village not far away were bright and touching to the bottom of my heart. My father was in front of the car, and my sisters and I were lying on the top of the corn pile on the car, and the sound of horses' hooves knocked through the silence of the dirt road, and occasionally the crisp sound of my father's whip whistle was thrown, and the frog song in my ears would stop instantly. A moon is overhead, and the bright stars are watching us lying in the car.

The carriage dragged us unhurriedly, past the fields of crops, over the stone bridges over the river, past the deserted graves. Fear would follow in front of and behind, looking at the shadows and grasses, all worried that something would fly out. Fortunately, the father's whip whistle always sounded at the right time, so the fragrance of the crops was pouring, and the two horses suddenly snorted, as if they suddenly blossomed in the darkness, and the corn under them touched our joy, the fear faded, and the stars and moons in the sky were bright.

Like to ride in the car at night, the quiet of the night affects the wandering thoughts, the complicated moments of the day are hidden, and those who rush through in the darkness are once the most beloved. I will still have countless experiences of riding at night, and I will still cherish every moment of time, so that the night and the movement of the car are intertwined into the most idyllic memories in my heart.

But I know that on the autumn evening when there is a moon, on the undulating dirt road, in the fragrance of the crops, I can no longer, no longer lie on the carriage driven by my father, and experience the changing feelings. Now, the sound of the horse's hooves can only shatter my old dreams, my father's whip whistle only rings in the past, those holy and distant, those untouchable, are my most lingering night train experience, the love and love that I can never get rid of in my life.

Quoted from the public number: The vicissitudes of Bao Limin are in the world