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Village chronicle
Author: Sand clouds on the ancient coast
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Update time 2010-8-1310: 45: 09 words: 2 129.
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Every village has a memory, just as everyone has a completely different memory from others, the memory belonging to the village also has a completely different memory relative to different villages.
For the memory of the countryside, it is no wonder that some old houses, some hutongs, some old things, some childhood games, and some people who are getting older and drifting away; Others have been familiar with today's streets, and the filled ponds are covered with new houses, losing the poverty and warmth in their memories.
We live in the iron wall of the city, except concrete or concrete, except tall buildings or tall buildings, we don't know each other, except diaphragm or diaphragm; Running for life, struggling in the confusion of material desires and lust, and surviving in the gap between interests and power, we are completely ashamed, almost forgetting that we are just passers-by in this city, and we are a group of country people living in this city.
But who is not a passer-by in this city? Only the countryside is the last bottom line that will remain in our hearts forever. It holds us up and floats in this noisy city, like duckweed, and has no roots forever. We have been away from the village for too long, and the village is becoming more and more distant and strange in our memory. However, relative to life, time is such a strange phenomenon. The older a thing or a person gets, the harder it is for you to miss her. The farther away from the country, the more I miss.
What is missing? Missing is constantly chanting, constantly thinking, and constantly wanting to say goodbye.
This is the first time I want to express an emotion completely. All the words are scattered everywhere, like a piece of sand that can't be piled up, more like a catharsis, an endless fragment of thought. I have been writing for many years, no ...