After reading the blue house, I feel about 1000 words.

Hedgehog on the Run-Some people feel that they will run away from home even if they are tied to the heating pipe after watching The Blue House. North Island is still in a state of desertion. Doesn't he want to come back? He said, "It's really lucky to go to the ends of the earth and get to know other lands and residents, especially people who are engaged in writing like me. Life is so fateful. " I tasted a little bitter, just like boiling some sugar. At the craziest time of North Island, he traveled to seven countries in six years. Like a bamboo pole, he penetrated the poems of many countries, and then sugarcoated those poets and held them in front of readers. More than 20 years ago, I put Lin Song's poems into my schoolbag. He made a teenager feel good about himself on the way to school. At that time, I was tired of Shu Ting in North Island and began to like academic experimental poems that I couldn't understand. Time sometimes sticks to the range hood, which is difficult to eliminate. Sometimes it flows away like a turned tap. Reading North Island again, his poems retired in prose, and his body and soul wandered in a foreign country, but his words flashed with light pointing to the motherland. North Island sang a Peruvian poem, "I wander with nothing." When he admits that he is bored, is there a feeling that the poet didn't notice or make it clear under the "hidden impulse"? Kosuke Kitajima said in "The Blue Lantern", "The range where a person walks is his world." Kant never left Connors Castle, Thoreau lived in the famous Walden Lake for more than two years, and Gu Cheng killed Riptide Island and Davis, who temporarily stayed in the North Island. These are just place names. Everyone sticks to a garden, which is physical, imaginary or half asleep. North Island didn't go too far. Try to be a hedgehog that doesn't hurt each other. Poets all over the world are hedgehogs, sometimes they stab reality, but more often they are stabbed by reality. No matter what they look like in North Island's Blue Lantern and Blue House, they can't change their fate and will never be good for them. The figure of North Island's generation of poets has gradually lengthened, and those earlier than them, such as Pass and Ginsburg, have been completely reconciled. I can't take pictures of them anymore. My wandering peers, such as the painter Peng Gang, bid farewell to painting completely. I think of Yan Shisan in the movie Mei Lanfang. Facing the empty theater, she sang and acted, and never went out of shape. We are unqualified readers and viewers, and we choose to go with the flow, but this is the coldness and rules of history. As a "wandering dead leaf" from the North Island,