Children who are too fond of, obsessed with or even dependent on words are smart, sensitive and precocious. When my friends are immersed in various games, or fall asleep when they are tired, I observe, listen, feel and think about the world with words.
It's hard to define who is happy, me or those guys my age. But I always believe that happiness is a self-commitment to fate.
Those words chose me, not me. When my depression has nowhere to pour out, when my happiness and love overflow everywhere, language has absorbed them all.
In words, I can carve the names of the people I love on the stars and let them appear in my dreams. I can also spell beautiful poems for those who love me with white snow flowers in the sky!
When I opened this collection and began to read, I seemed to see children who were as delicate and sensitive as me, but obsessed with writing: they sat in front of me, attacking my heart that had been polished and hardened by years with a string of wonderful words and piano sounds, such as some pure moonlight, gently pushing my dusty heart away and asking, "How are you?"
Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for coming on the wings of the evening breeze, and let me see transparency and clarity, love and happiness on the dew of your eyelashes!
I hope that after many years, when you review your own words again, you can see the same happiness as I saw! I also hope that this kind of happiness, like some flowers, will bloom in your young years and say to you gently: Hi! Hello!
The prose of those flowers is as beautiful as summer flowers and autumn leaves.
A few words, long life. I hope so, and so is my life. Even if I am as old as a dead leaf, I will return to the earth with grace.
I seldom think through one thing. I am afraid of being entangled in life for too long, and I feel cruel like clear water. People say that confusion is bliss, and I will never learn such "confusion". It took a long time to realize that this is also an art.
The silence I long for is the peace of mind. In the world of mortals, I am still a little girl who can't get rid of the temptation of the mirror, and these distances are not close.
Sometimes in a trance, I always feel that I am so out of place with the world. I don't know if the world is progressing too fast or if I am standing still. But no matter what the result is, I am still me, and change is a painful thing.
Listening to a song makes me feel palpitation. Even if it is fleeting, it is enough to remind me of this song and a poetic story. Every lyric is an emotional poem, which makes people happy or sad, bitter or sweet.
However, I also understand that a person only has one song.
Heart, there is a string, only one person is talking and playing.
Prose 3 of those flowers. Long time no see.
I want to write about this topic for a long time, but I don't do it for fear of disturbing the tenderness in my heart. Like crystal, dark blue and blue make people fall in love with loneliness. He said, I have been to your city, walked the way you came, and imagined how lonely you are without me.
I know, this song was not written for me, but how did it move me? No matter what kind of day, when I walk that road, a smile just overflows from my heart, so I pass by every day, so I am used to slowing down.
Without your photo, we can't go back to yesterday, but I really want to see your recent changes and say, "Long time no see."
What those flowers lack in prose 4 is the pain of breathing.
"Didn't look at your face, make public the sadness; How lonely and stubborn this is ... "Some people say that such lyrics are too direct and have no connotation. But I just want to make it clear to the person I love, even directly.
I still remember that "two things to do every day are to breathe and miss you" is a kind of helplessness and a kind of struggle, he said. I said it was terrible. Laughing without a word means nothing. Don't say anything, but he will remember all your good things.
How fragile the heart is, it can't hold too many things, otherwise, how can she breathe?
A few years ago, all my impressions of Sejong were just a few friends of Sejong. As for her geographical features, world conditions, soil and water, local conditions and customs, it is like nothing to me. So when I heard the word "sejong" mentioned occasionally, I thought of not only friends, but also friends. Later, in the constant communication with friends, the word "sejong" appeared pale, indifferent and tasteless. Under the catalysis of time, they are slowly colored and attached by warmth. Later, color and warmth became outlines and plots. Until one day, they became a place that I could no longer avoid.
2/kloc-0 At the beginning of the 20th century, Qujing's tourism industry just started to stir up, and Ma Yinghua, a student of Junzishan, was shyly preparing to open her heart to the world, when an invitation came from a friend. Some friends say that spring is the most beautiful time in Junzi Mountain. "At this time, the cherry blossoms of the horse are in full bloom. Further on, it is in bud, less amorous feelings; The flowers in the future are indulgent, fluttering and falling; The flowers in spring are gorgeous and fresh, neither early nor late, and they are the most timely to watch. " This friend is a poet. In order to persuade me to go to Shizong, he didn't talk about friendship, but sent me some descriptions that annoyed me the most. He meant well and insisted on letting me see the most beautiful scenery, but I hesitated. I don't know whether to pay more attention to the beautiful scenery or despise friendship.
My best friend said, "Literati just like to chew over words and think twice. If you are invited to enjoy flowers, you can enjoy them. You care about other things, which only shows that you think too much. You are oversensitive! " She laughed at me. I was shocked and realized that I was too addicted to words and imagination. Yes, a familiar friend, a strange place, seems destined to meet for a period of time and space. There is no reason to refuse. Well, Sejong, let's meet once! So, when I came to Sejong and Junzi Mountain, it was doomed that I was only for those flowers?
In the spring of March, the spring is budding, but the sunshine is somewhat erratic and confused. On the same plateau, the peaks reaching Shizong rise and fall strangely, as if the milky floating black contains an unspeakable confession. The road was bumpy, and the bus rushed forward slowly, deliberately reminding me of this trip. A person's journey is a bit lonely, but fortunately, there is spring accompanied, and there are sections of spring that bloom freely. A person's master's journey seems to be full of romance.
In my opinion, those flowers are a myth.
It was my second day in Shizong, after my friends and I got together happily and drank a toast. In the spring morning, the sun is shining, but it can't stop the plateau from being fresh and cold forever. The bus changed to another bus, but the road was still bumpy, which made me doubt that those legendary delicious flowers were still in the legend. At this moment of being in a daze, just deeper down the mountain, there appeared a delicate and charming cherry blossom. It seems to fly in the air, and it seems to break through the ground. No prelude, no bedding. When you see it, it exists independently, but it already exists as a landscape. At the foot, the weeds that have been sleeping for a whole winter are desperately grasping the green. Those withered stems and leaves, together with the messy brown rocks, constitute another landscape. One tree, two trees, three trees ... alienated and independent, but stretched and stood proudly, never bending and breaking; Farther away, there are clusters of awnings, branches connected, leaves overlapping, surrounded and spread, affectionate; Finally, the whole thing is flowing freely and recklessly.
Countless times, in the plateau of spring, in the depths of high forests, or by the flowing streams, azaleas change colors and decorate spring. When I chased them, I thought those brilliant and prosperous flowers were black flowers, which could make spring pale. But it didn't. Compared with Ma Yinghua, those little cuckoos I have seen before are too vulgar and pink. So far, I have only made a general outline of the forest of the cherry blossom on the mushroom mountain by montage.
There is no noise, no foil, just standing quietly. Whether it is a single tree or an ocean, those huge flowers are different gifts for spring. With the height and nobility of the plateau, because of the depth and elegance of time, oily green leaves can be ignored. Piles of knotted flowers are covered with bright colors, from trees to forests, from flowers that are clearly visible to charming eyes ... or, it is just a haze of azalea fairies, which is intentionally left because of nostalgia. Therefore, random growth, even quiet growth, has been in the clear sky and the open and distant plateau, emitting charming light. I feel, God, higher and farther, the ground has collapsed, and I am not me anymore. Only those flowers stand proudly between heaven and earth.
The plateau in spring is so beautiful that no one can refuse it.
I'm not a botanist. I can't tell you how many kinds of azaleas are distributed on a mountain called Gentleman, and how many exotic flowers and herbs except azaleas are growing around it. I'm not a geologist either. I can deeply study and analyze the unique geological structure of Junzi Mountain, and then come to the conclusion that flower varieties like Ma Yinghua are most suitable for growing in the geographical environment of Wumeng Mountain in Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau. I'm not a traveler either. When I come to Junzi Mountain, I want to make a long-term observation of the natural environment here, including the growth of grass and the flight of warblers, including rainy days and cold days, including the wrinkled and endless trunk of a thousand years. I'm just a spectator at Junzishan in a hurry. I was in it, and all I saw was countless blooming flowers. There is no need to describe the shapes and colors of those flowers. Moist and plump leaves and thin and thick cellophane powder, no matter how thin the brush is, it is hard to describe.
This is the first time I have seen Junzi Mountain. Indeed, at that time, there was nothing in my eyes except those flowers. Even my accompanying friends have been teased by me. I said, "If you wear a sunset robe, you are a cherry blossom." This is a fact. Wandering in the sea of flowers, I feel that I am one of them.
To Shizong, to Junzishan, the surface is to see flowers, more of an original intention, originally to continue friendship. But now, unconsciously, I think I have fallen in love with those flowers.
As for my friend, I still don't know what kind of mood I was in. For me, this has become a mystery that will never be solved. The mystery of time, the mystery of life and death, the mystery of feelings.
Now, my friend left us early because of an illness. And I, like that time, couldn't let go of those flowers on Mushroom Mountain. Falling in love with an object and a place is not because of anything else, but because of a relationship with someone. Some contacts, even if dull, also express true feelings, even if far away, but with warmth.
This spring, another friend invited me to go on an outing in Junzi Mountain.
After more than ten years, what will those flowers on Junzi Mountain look like? A question will suddenly pop up in my heart. In the past ten years, I have been to Shizong many times because of my work. I have visited the traditional bamboo culture, the rural cultural performances in Cai Yun and the beautiful and elegant scenery in Phoenix Valley, but I have never been to Junzi Mountain. This is a coincidence of arrangement, and it is also suspected of intention. The most beautiful scenery, afraid to see more, afraid of extremes meet, infected with the strange disease of aesthetic fatigue, afraid that things are wrong, provoked some deep feelings.
However, I came after all. Junzishan, are you okay? Huaer, are you okay?
In the Internet era of rapid economic development, the road to the secret realm has also become faster. It took more than half a day more than ten years ago, but now it falls behind in less than two hours. High speed allows our emotions to arrive quickly.
Gentleman Mountain is far from as long as I expected, and it stretches quietly, as if I had just been there yesterday. Friend, can you still come with me?
When I was leaving, it was raining sparsely in Qujing, but it seemed that a god who knew everything saw through my heart and wanted to share it with me. The faint sadness came like this.
When we arrived at Junzi Mountain, it had not rained. There are some haze in the sky, and the sun shines through from time to time, shining on this immortal forest that has gone through hundreds of years of vicissitudes but is still green. It's still a little late In the swaying of the mountain wind, I only saw the flowers of a tree withered and the petals fell to the ground. Occasionally, a few plants are red and purple, but they have lost their bright colors. At this time, it is not the flowers that attract people's attention, but the overwhelming green of the whole mountain and the magnificent red on the ground. At this time, I thought of some poems like this:
The endless time is always at an unimaginable time.
From the crazy growth of buds and leaves
Slip away casually
Spring after many years.
From one end of the rain to the other.
I took a deep breath.
Just for an instant missed encounter.
Time has turned a page.
The world is in a state of red.
Precipitate out another color.
A thousand-year-old tree failed.
The mountain road that once wandered.
I have forgotten how we met in those days.
Never thought about how to come again.
Look around the mountains and plains.
I can't find a way out.
I can't find my way back.
I don't know how to think of poetry again. Is it because of the friend who writes poetry? Although the communication between us is limited to the so-called "encounter", although we have long been separated by Yin and Yang, what is the boundary between life and death?
In Junzi Mountain, among the deep cherry trees, white or pink or red or purple petals are scattered on the gradually green grass. Sometimes a few rays of blurred sunlight pass through, and mottled spots are like silver. I saw bloom a few years ago, and saw bloom wither a few years later, thinking that the season stopped changing when I was away, and I gave up when I didn't care. In fact, bloom's flowers have fallen and the grass has withered, and time has never stopped. Just like this season, before I arrived, those flowers were as bright and breathtaking as they were a few years ago. That spring, after I left, when the spring was coming to an end, there were also petals playing the time. In the dark night, or in the cold morning, they fell down without hesitation ... Although the flowers are gorgeous, the red flowers are equally magnificent. Why does the world bother itself with feelings, thinking that dying is a sad feeling that can be felt. Think of Gong Zizhen's poem: "Falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud protects flowers more."
I thought it was sad to go to Junzi Mountain to enjoy flowers in spring and evening, because of my dead friend. However, this spring, in the red, I clearly saw a deja vu face, very quiet and serene, with a slight smile at the corner of my mouth. It's that friend. He's gone, but he's still here. It suddenly dawned on me that it is natural to be born, die and die. The world lives by living, lives by dying, and boasts of being smart. This is ridiculous.
When I was about to leave, the sun came out clearly, making sure that those flowers that will soon wither are happy and affectionate when they rush to the earth. Those flowers, as long as they are with this forest, will always fly with time, the stars will flow, and the flowers in bloom will fall and be wonderful.
So, what can I regret and lose?
From spring to spring dusk, a flower from prosperity to apoptosis, I thought it was a road that I couldn't go out, a feeling that I couldn't go back. Originally, I only needed a moment's gaze, as long as I gently said, "Friends, go well!"
Nothing happened. In the spring on the plateau, on the steep cliff of Junzi Mountain, under the bright sunshine, those blooming flowers are beautiful when you fall in love with them. You are not in love, but they are still beautiful. Friend, I remember you and those flowers in my life, that's enough!
Years are quiet!