Modern people's homes are all in a grid matchbox, the appearance is the same, and the decoration and layout inside are also similar. Fortunately, the wanderers are forgetful, they may take the wrong building, enter the wrong stairway, and will never call the wrong parents.
Our home was not like this before.
The home in the city is either in any alley or deep in the alley, with an old locust tree or two loquat trees supporting it—as for the cloves and oil-paper umbrellas, they are only found in the rain lanes of Dai Wangshu. When the wind is strong, one or two pieces of clothing often fall from the bamboo poles on the horizontal frame and cover the shoulders or heads of passers-by, and some stories occur from this. The country home, no matter how poor, has its own courtyard, the wall swaying dog tail grass, behind the house a nest of chickens and two leeks. When the child comes home, when the mother is anxious to touch the chicken's ass, pinch a handful of tender leeks, and fry the fragrance straight into the bone marrow, how many years will not forget.
I spent my childhood at my grandmother's house, living in Baguacheng, and think about how twisted this place name is! One of the oldest district streets in Xiamen. The names of its streets and alleys are extremely vivid: "Tin Street", most of the people who live are craftsmen; "Splint Liao", the simplicity of the house can be imagined; "Zeng Girl Lane", originally there was a zeng girl ancestral hall, the inscription said that she had "the appearance of a closed moon and a shy flower, the appearance of sinking fish and falling geese".
After school, I went to see her portrait, and the flat round face had a pair of thin small eyes. I was very disappointed, and from then on I was very skeptical of the adjectives in the ancient books.
As long as I have time, I am still willing to go back to the old street.
In the cracks of the city, there are always a few forgotten corners. For example, on Kaiyuan Road, there are no restaurants, no supermarkets, no hair salons, only small grocery stores and shoe repair stalls. More modern is a public telephone, pulled out of the house, resting on a wooden stool in the doorway, guarded by an old man with a toe slit. A little later, downstairs, there was a low table, a dark tea set, a few old people playing cards, and a dozen chips for a dime. The days swirled here and continued to flow slowly.
Another example is Tin Street, so narrow, with two hands open, you can grab two green onions at the same time, and the Wang family can ask for a pinch of salt; so short, standing at this end, you can see the traffic of the main road at that end; but it is so prosperous, during the day, everyone puts out something to sell: poria cake, fresh eggs, roasted meat dumplings, gold leaf silver paper, local green skin mango; or find something to do: sewing, repairing umbrellas, writing books, gold diggers. It's always bustling, and it looks like it's just buying and selling between neighbors.
At night, they all put the small dining table at the door, and people have to pass by, they have to turn sideways, often either bumping over the small wine cup of the house or sprinkling the oyster noodle soup of the family. But it doesn't matter, the people who come in and out of here at least have a nod of friendship. Cooked and cooked can not go to the door, they are grabbed to sit down and drink two sips. Inevitably quarrelsome, quarrelsome and emotional, weekdays scrubbing palm spoon low eyebrows pleasing women, this time the eloquence is excellent, pouring into the streets.
Cough, old street.
What we miss is not the past when we were crowded, sweltering, and three generations of the same room, but the fireworks of mortal human affection that were intertwined with each other. Especially when we take out a large bunch of keys, open the public iron door, our own security door, the door, go to the balcony that is tightly sealed by the steel fence, and see that the upper and lower left and right are the same iron cages. You don't know where the man on the balcony next door with a beer belly and flowers works, and the woman next to him is not his wife. Of course, he doesn't know you either, so you feel safe and don't want to break this tacit understanding.
When you are depressed, when you are lonely, when you are hanging in mid-air, you may wish to go to the old street.
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