Walking through the morning
Flowers can also be shy, suddenly I think of it in the sunny morning. The wind swept through the corner, taking away some of yesterday's sadness and sadness, as well as some unknown feelings. The flow of people has not yet surged, and my heart refuses the hustle and bustle. I want to let go of my arms and breathe in this clear air, and feel the moisture from last night condensing and dripping on the trees. I could hear the sound of it falling to the ground, and my bare skin was caressing the slippery water droplets from time to time. There were cool wet spots on the colorful tiles on the ground, like yesterday's story, which I could remember vividly.
It is the end of spring, and the heat of summer has been fermenting and brewing in the wine cellar, permeating the dazzling morning sun, making people tipsy. Maybe I haven't woken up from a hangover, or maybe the season is late, but even in this fresh morning breeze, I still feel sleepy. There is no empty spiritual platform in Nianyan's mind. He has a sleepy citizen's mentality and sees sparse people walking around him.
So it feels like walking through a world that I have become accustomed to is really a monotonous scenery. The eyes are searching, there will always be something different from the past. A black cat crossed the zebra crossing, yesterday it was a dirty dog. They all looked at me the same way, and then walked leisurely by themselves; when they arrived at the traffic light again, they had to wait a few seconds longer than yesterday, but today's patrol officers were not as diligent as yesterday, and the emotions revealed by flicking their feet were incomprehensible. Corner; Will I see an acquaintance of my colleagues running in the same direction as me towards the same destination? The person from yesterday kept complaining about breakfast along the way...
The silent water along the river ignored the towering stilts on the shore, and the Tidal Bridge still carried the busy life on its thick shoulders. Destroyed and reshaped, the city pursues vertical changes over and over again, while the meticulously crafted lives gradually resemble each other. On one side are the ruins that have not been cleaned up, where there are traces of yesterday. People are always forgetful, always pretending to be pain and swing in the choice of new and old, but haven't the stories in the piles of piles been treasured before? But now it is abandoned again, crowded and crowded towards the same destination; on one side is the banging construction site, throwing dust to passers-by, receiving looks of upward gaze, how much envy and desire there is, and also helplessness.
Passing by the station, I thought about the transfer of food, the entry and exit of food, the past and the future, here and there, home and reverse travel, time and space, etc. The water-milled bricks and passenger station in front of us, these images that exist in the form of objects, should perhaps be expressed in the artistic conception of poetry. Only in this way, I feel, only in this way can the lightness and weight of life they carry be weighed more clearly. Clear curve graph, clear at a glance. Every time I pass by it, I think so, and look forward to it so fervently: Someone will write it, and write a richer and more wonderful story of helplessness and fatigue as I envisioned in my heart. People and life just swing back and forth between busyness and fulfillment, leisure and emptiness.
Day by day, week after week, we are walking on the road. The air was already scorched by the sun.
Wandering by the Juma River in the early morning
Walking by the Juma River in the early morning...
Shidu, a tourist resort in western Beijing, is quiet in mid-spring It's beautiful, like a fairyland. On the top of the towering Dongling Mountain, there is a layer of faint rouge-like morning glow; in the clear blue sky, there are a few slender wandering clouds. Many unknown birds hide in the lush branches, open their singing voices, and sing loudly, singing beautiful bird songs that echo in the empty valley, making people feel happy at the beginning of a new day. An indescribable excitement and joy spontaneously arose.
Shidu is famous for its unique mountain scenery and is known as the Little Guilin in the North. The mountains here are majestic and delicate, precipitous and charming; the peaks are protruding and full of interest. Some peaks are sharp, like a steel sword piercing the sky; some are round and tall, like a camel lying down; some mountains are even more strange, with a layer of rugged stone walls and a layer of downy green grass, all green and white. , layer upon layer, like a bonsai, fresh and unique. There are many trees here, most of them are persimmons, walnuts, apricots, pears, etc., and there are also some poplars, elms, and willows. The village is hidden deep in the trees. At this time, wisps of smoke rose above the village, like thin and long veils.
I got up very early, walked alone through the farmhouse, and strolled by the Juma River. The Juma River in the early morning is very interesting. There is a thin white mist floating on the river, the clear water is gurgling, the fish are vying for joy, the green peaks stand upside down, and the water reflects the blue sky. Looking at everything in front of you, you will feel that all the worries and worries in your heart are as if they are gone. It was washed away by the running water, leaving only a pure and open ice. Suddenly, a soft and melodious song came from nowhere. If it weren't for the familiar lyrics of "You and I are lingering and flying, flying through the world of mortals and staying together forever..." I would have thought it was a song floating in the sky. The wonderful voice of the fairy came down.
By the river, several students from the art academy were sketching. Each of them squinted their eyes like a drunken person, watching and appraising the scenery in front of them for a long time. The hand holding the pen moved from time to time. Dancing, as if there are gods secretly helping me, with a few strokes, the landscape in front of me appears on the paper, very lifelike. I admired them and left quietly for fear of disturbing their longing for painting.
I continued walking slowly by the river, recalling the beautiful landscape paintings in my mind, which again aroused my endless reverie. Yes, nowadays, aren’t each of us painting with a brush? Everyone is using their own pen to outline their own life and leave their own mark on the journey of life. Some people condense all their blood into a little pink, adding a small flower to the picture; some people condense their sweat into a touch of light blue, and outline a thin willow on the picture; some people turn themselves into a tall and straight tower. The mountain is attached to the corner of the picture scroll; some people merge themselves into a thin trickle, flowing through one side of the picture scroll, enriching their colorful lives...
Thoughts of this , I couldn't help but murmured a few poems:
Green mountains and green waters,
The peaks and valleys are deep;
The beautiful mountains and rivers are magnificent,
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