-Since the world was young.
Railway? 6? 1 growth
"Countless times, I looked at the railroad tracks extending into the distance and wondered how far it could take me. How far is forever? It was spring, and I wore a white cotton shirt and jeans, which were washed very white. I am a person who often feels lonely. I have a hunch that I will leave here, but one day I really left ... "
I don't know why I like Annie Baby's unfinished sentence so much. It must be placed at the beginning of this paragraph. Reading Anne Baby's things often has a sad feeling that things have changed, and a parting of the prodigal son. In an unexpressed strange world, it is not surprising that words flow as clear and forbearing as water. However, in the lonely situation, I am really surprised and moved. I can still draw the colorful faces of the years, carry the warm sun on my shoulders, and let the sacred Buddha and the humble dandelion grow together under the bodhi tree. I saw a wandering soul longing for a better life, which is why I like Annie Baby.
I used to wear a white shirt, a pair of faded jeans, a braid, and a very lady's comb, wandering alone by the railway track in the distance. It's sunny every time it's windy and rainy. Every time I see lights on everywhere, it's as beautiful as a glass paradise. Occasionally, passing trains heroically spit out smoke and condense into a rope. After nine days, I suddenly remembered a serial story about acrobatics. I even thought that if I could follow this smoke trail, I would certainly steal the flat peach of the Queen Mother. And listening to the sound of the train "clicking" is like standing on the edge of a historic site, crossing the accumulation of time and space, listening to songs and dances from Qin, Han and Tang Dynasties. For me, this is not a simple and boring roar, but a poet's singing, a writer's fable and a musician's talk. Every stone on the pillow is a line of verse, a plot and a note, all of which are wonderful interactions with the soul.
I once sent away the love of my life by the mottled and cold railway tracks, and I don't even know where he went. Love to the extreme, then hidden in the bottom of my heart, into a beautiful illusion, like a fairy tale, unforgettable. My clothes are hunting in the wind, and my affectionate memories are like a grain of sand. I cried when I fell into my eyes. Tears are the most transparent, because they come from the clearest mind.
I am a nostalgic person, and I believe that memory is the most selfless tenderness in the world, which can soothe all the pain. Therefore, whenever I keep this unknown station to recall, I can always feel happiness floating slowly in my heart. When the train whizzed past me, I was burying a tear in the soil, praying that nature would turn it into the brightest fossil.
I really want to go to the other end of the track to see, behind the mountain is still the mountain, in front of the field is still the field, and at the end of the road is still the road. I believe that I will find my happiness even in the habitat of wild cranes in idle clouds and in the secluded place of buildings. But all along, I didn't get on the train as I wished, because my ticket was invalid and there were five striking words printed on it: destination unknown.
After leaving the station, I was at a loss like a child. The only thing I can do is to write a bunch of words in my diary that I can't understand, and then lose sleep like an adult. I let the wind measure the distance between me and the distance, and then, I waited for the arrival of the next train with tears of blood, and my story was waiting here, heading for the end without interruption. I think that one day, in this small station, I will send myself away and leave in a hurry, watching the dust of history fly gently behind me.
The wind said, son, you are already in the car. When you look at the scenery, don't you notice that your youth has come a long way along the road of life with incomparable pure beauty.
I didn't realize it because I was burdened with the future and the past, but I forgot the present alone.
Power failure? 6? 1 growth
It was already dark and dusk rose from the sky. A midsummer night is like a huge water cup, which is filled with moist and bubbling steam. I sat in front of the computer, first I made QQ invisible, then I opened "Fairy Sword", and I experienced the pleasure of climbing over the eaves in the fantasy space of swords and swords. At that time, the sound of keyboard tapping, background music and the rotation of the chassis fan were mixed in full swing. Just as Xiaoyao was trapped in the maze, he heard a slight bang. At the moment, the chaotic music, colorful phantoms and flashing heads are all gone. I secretly complain. This is not just the end of a game, because even the pale fluorescent lamp closed its eyes in court.
Photo album: "that night, the fireworks on the other side of the river were dazzling and deafening, inspiring young people's depressed emotions." We stared at the fantastic magnificence that appeared and disappeared in an instant, and then recalled our confused future and our youth like fireworks. " In fact, it's as easy as blinking when we press the shutter. We closed our eyes at the moment of taking pictures. Neither you nor I in the photo laughed. The memory of a photo album can be simple or profound; It can be lyrical or noisy; You can be unrestrained and restrained, but you can breed a happy mood if you keep it for a long time. Because there is no shortage of happiness in life, what is lacking is only the temperature of refining happiness. Memorizing or forgetting is not as important as living happily every day.
Does the growth of people mean the loss of poetry? However, fortunately, it is a few meters. Because of him, at least, "all sadness always leaves a trace of happiness;" All regrets always leave a perfect corner. "On my growing road, I will always remember such a picture: a melancholy and naive child, carrying a bright lantern, walking on a dark road, illuminating flowers, grass and small animals with big eyes, and illuminating the corner forgotten by poetry in the hearts of busy urbanites.
Fortunately, in the pure midnight, there will still be poets and children walking happily, which is enviable and touching.
Xing Qing? 6? 1 growth
"Riding the wind, wandering in the sky. A cloud falls in front of me, holding your shape. Follow me with the wind, bite my sadness, wearing you as if wearing sunshine. Wherever you go, the sun is shining, butterflies are flying freely, and flowers are everywhere, all because of you. Try to make the sunset fly, lead you and me around nature, and start every day against the wind ... "
This is Jay Chou's original song "Sunny Starry Sky", which is also my favorite song. Actually, I'm not a fashion follower. I had no idea who Jay Chou was before I knew this song. I don't like idolatry, but it doesn't mean that all my feelings have lost their tentacles in front of popular elements. I like Star Clear, because its melody is like a clear starlight, which gently pushes open the door of my memory in simple silence. Although I didn't find the word "Xingqing" in my thick vocabulary, I never regarded it as a disgusting word because I liked it. I am willing to explain it according to my own understanding. Yes, the sunny starlight, what a warm and beautiful artistic conception, clean, transparent and clear, hugged me tightly at once, giving me a kind of "fly, fly, what am I, but a sandpiper in the vast world!" .
I remember the first time someone sang this song to me, I was looking up at the sky stupidly. But who is it? I can't remember at all. Every time the light flashes, I only remember that the other person's eyes are honest and transparent, like cool starlight, like the surging tide in the dark night, coming and going. This is the depth of the night, loneliness, memory, unfathomable. Behind the stars are still stars, and the sky will never change.
Memory is like an ancient silent film, dark, bright, dry and flashing with tears. Nothing is more memorable than music. When the melody in your heart ripples in the air, you seem to find the shadow of the past. The feeling of deja vu is like bronze starlight all over the sky, cold and bright. I stood quietly under the clear starry sky and asked myself again and again, how can I remember? Like a fairy tale, the green wall covered with ivy, the swinging swing with a smile, and the lavender exultation all over the world.
I always feel that many girls must have been cats in their last lives. After reincarnation, they still have elegance, lofty, meekness, aura, and moving curves drawn by their heads when running. Even in the intentional "discharge", it is also a face of innocence, which makes people feel pity. On the other hand, I am ashamed that I am not a lady at all. I always grin in the sun, as messy and unrestrained as weeds in the wind, and I can't stop for a moment, and I don't care about showing my irregular teeth. I am a wayward child, with stubborn happiness and stubborn troubles. Although I refuse to bow my head and give up easily, my heart is a wet day. Whether it hurts or not, only I know best. Fortunately, I am good at writing. So I can hype up the funny stories that were not good enough when I was a child, but I can either ridicule or laugh at myself or simply forget about it. While writing a quiet essay, I taught myself the kung fu of the three-legged cat to prevent men and women from scuffling. I have also practiced long-distance running skills hard, and demonstrated my skills when I was chased or chased by others with lasting endurance and increasing acceleration. I also had the idea of learning Taekwondo several times, but unfortunately, after all, I am not a sports person, so now I can only exaggerate and shout: "Wow-that's cool!" . I like to buy men's T-shirts. Jeans are the kind of light blue that has been washed many times. This kind of dress is skin-friendly to me, and it also makes me free and easy like a pony with a runaway dream. I prefer pants chains, wrist guards and religion to lip gloss, nail polish and affairs. I am Manchu, and I don't know which Eight Banners my ancestors belonged to. For me, those rattles on TV are really an illusion that I can't go any further. In my opinion, the gorgeous brocade is far less than my pair of gray jeans; The charm of the soft wind blowing willows is far less than the shiny back roll on the cushion.
A girl who is not a lady, in the flower season of 14 years old, does she already have a lot of splendor in her heart? Is there still a clear and shallow stream flowing in the middle of the splendor, tinkling and telling the story of time? I can't explain these clearly. It's like I can't tell who first covered the song "Star Clear" for me. Although I can't say clearly, I still stand in the depths of the starlight, desperately waving to youth, with a gesture of forgetting the joys and sorrows. And that was my sweet and noisy girlhood, this sour and sweet jelly time, this snowy time, and the best time for me to flow like a star.
"One step, two steps, three steps, four steps, looking at the sky, looking at the stars, one, two, three, four, connected into a line, back-to-back default wishes, see if the stars in the distance can hear, it will definitely come true." When the starlight flickered on my nose, some of the most beautiful flowers suddenly bloomed behind me. Every delicate petal is engraved with a small name, such as clear and clever fragments of the years, swaying slightly in the youthful feelings penetrated by memory, such as sign language, and all the silk threads are wrapped in tiny and peaceful happiness.
Look up at the sky and count how many stars there are-
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. ...
Our time has simply passed.
First love? 6? 1 growth
This season comes quietly, and so does this era. ...
Piccolo sang softly, revealing a little bud in my heart. Every exquisite sound hole is my eyes staring at you. Trouble, falling off the notes, disappearing and getting stronger are all your names.
With your dreams around you, you are as warm as the sunshine in early spring and February. Oh, are you a glowing island in the distance? Are you Huang Shoupa, the one who waved to me in the bushes? Are you a gentle and surging wave in my chest? I hid behind my shyness and read you. There is little space here, only my heart is roaring. I am careful to keep secrets, scenery and rosy dreams. In the valley full of flowers, my breath is full of your fragrance, and my blue expectation is surrounded by your love.
Your eyes are the tide in the clear sky. To this end, I became a seagull, a blue seagull, covered with shining sea breeze, and the joys and sorrows of the years passed quickly among my feathers. I am a seagull, silent seagull. Spring is coming, I don't ask you the flowering period; At the beginning of the story, I don't ask you the ending; When traveling together, I don't ask you if it will rain or wind tomorrow. I have searched for your warm harbor again and again, for your inner news, and for the oasis that you haven't had time to show. Will the fish tell me? Will the lighthouse tell me? Will the drifting oar sound tell me?
We often have the same wandering dreams. We often walk into Tibet several times in our dreams-a place where the stars are really clear. After coming back, we talked with others about prayer flags, butter lamps, Gesanghua, Lama and a devout "Armani Bamimi". But in the dream, there are only scenery and no stories. I said, wandering without burden and care is a normal life. You smiled and nodded in agreement. For us, it is impossible without burden and care. Therefore, at most, we just sit in the room and think about it, but we are always afraid to step forward and leave this gray city that we don't particularly hate or like.
Wandering outside the fence of the season, my mood will suddenly be filled with tears and rain, my eyes will suddenly be filled with heavy snow, and the romance of season after season will suddenly begin to age. "We are still young, we need to hit the road!" Kerouac's fiery cry rang out in the clear sky. Love and freedom, struggling in their hearts, both want to break through the cocoon. Want to fly out of your palm, but also rely on your gentleness. My heart surges like the sea every night. When you were still whispering my name in your dream, I was revived in my heart. At this time, it is the time when spring is deep, and the recovery of life adds a layer of glitz to the already gorgeous space. Apricot yellow, smoke blue, bamboo blue and water red, all kinds of petals are beautiful and fragrant in the sun, forming a mysterious and exquisite net. Life is like a net. In the melancholy wind, there are whispers of who and who. The happiness that comes out of happiness is actually just a thin little book.
First love is refreshed by growing youth, and it is as short as falling flowers in time. And youth is coming to an end, so my sky is always ahead. My thoughts are saved by the new wind; My soul is being accommodated by new dreams, but in such a lonely flight, I still pour memories that have never faded. I am still entangled in faint pain and I still feel that I have never left. Fly with the wings you gave me, regardless of oblique grazing or gliding, leaving gray ripples on the skin of clear water, making the afterglow of sunset highlight the charm of metal. I am a seagull, the soul of the sea.
My once depressed thoughts began to rise, and at this time, the sun is slowly climbing up your face.
Looking back, like a song.
Fourteen years old? 6? 1 growth
Standing on the threshold of fourteen, I looked around, and suddenly, a feeling like sunshine spread all over my body. What a glorious day it is to be fourteen. The smell of flowers, the wings of birds and the colors of rainbows will come quietly when you are not careful. As a result, fourteen-year-old spring always comes so quickly and quickly. /kloc-the heart of 0/4 years old is often touched, full of romance and fantasy, and it is easy to be opened. Looking back at the age of fourteen, there will always be a treasure to induce our feelings, which is worth our deep thinking and lasting forever. The fleeting waves often wash in our young chests, and when we are unprepared, they penetrate into the depths of our souls, blend into our emotions, wills, spirits and emotions, and gather all our first experiences in life, which makes us wonder that a small heart can accommodate so many beautiful things, and a small one has such a vast living space.
Zhou said that silence is the richest color. So, at the age of fourteen, I tried to learn to enjoy inner peace, enjoy loneliness in peace, and realize the joy of watching. Whenever night falls, put on a black coat for me, my heart will grow wings and fly with the stars in the form of a butterfly. I sat in the arms of the night, bathed in the moist moonlight and gently sang Jay's songs. Fourteen years old, although he hasn't fully woken up from the pupa, his dream for the future has already turned into a butterfly-like hope.
At the age of fourteen, I began to see the world with my own eyes and was full of curiosity and love for all the beautiful things in the world. Fourteen years old, warm family, sincere friendship, mellow happiness, beautiful loneliness; Fourteen years old, eager to grow up, but also nostalgic for childhood. Fourteen years old is like the sea, with turbulence in calm; Fourteen years old, like a tree, reveals maturity in ignorance. Fourteen-year-old, as the poet said, is a book that is too hasty, but fourteen-year-old is not disappointed. Although lush years, one year old is a season's flower, but the flower without regret, even if it only blooms once, will never fade in my heart. At the age of fourteen, the most important thing is to learn to live in life and know love in love.
Fourteen years old-the most beautiful lyrics in poetry, the most beautiful fragments in movies, and the most beautiful stories in memory. Even if the flowing youth will eventually grow old, the fleeting years will eventually make us forget an innocent age, but the dreams of youth and the price paid for them must be well collected and remembered, so that they can become eternal spiritual pillars.
When I was fourteen years old, I accidentally saw a very touching fairy tale "Charlotte's Web", so I dreamed of my own years, just like a little spider, weaving a love web with all the enthusiasm in life, caring for others, helping others, and getting ordinary but real happiness from it.
My little dream is still there. I am 14 years old, but I can never go back.