The speed of social development far exceeds the level that our thoughts can bear. I always feel that everything is different, and you are slowly out of touch with this society. Standing in the center of the world, you find that the earth is not the original earth and the sky is not the original sky, and gradually your soul feels extremely lonely. I just want to find a piece of pure land, quietly plant some fruit trees, raise some chickens and tie a rhubarb dog by the door. Sometimes you can listen to the sound of chickens barking and dogs barking, and sometimes you can listen to the rustling of the wind blowing through the leaves. There is always a stream in my heart. When I am tired, I lie in the stream and let it soothe my soul. ...
Walking in today's street, colorful, busy and slow-paced thoughts will be buried by the thunder of noisy cars. I want to slow down, but I can't slow down any more. I feel there is always a strong thrust behind me, pushing you forward bit by bit ... if you slow down for one minute, you will overtake the bus. If you are one minute late, you will lose an interview. One minute late; You can criticize the boss. How dare you slow down? Slowly, we don't know when the rhythm has become so hasty that our thoughts can't keep up with our own pace.
When you are in the corner of the city, it looks like a duck in a flock of chickens, which is so out of place. High-rise buildings can't compare with thatched cottages several feet high, wide squares can't compare with green fields, and neatly trimmed trees can't compare with pine trees on high mountains. I just want to smell the soil in the country, step on the dead leaves, walk on the country road and listen to the sound of the wind.
The smell of concrete floated around the town, listening to the whistle from near to far, and then disappeared. My thoughts seem to be led by that voice for a long time, and then covered by the night.
How many sleepless nights, just lying quietly in bed, thinking about the paddy field road I walked, catching loaches in the fields during the day and catching grasshoppers at night, those scenes are played in my mind like TV dramas. The corners of the mouth will rise slightly inadvertently. The past is destined for memory and nostalgia. The more memories we have, the dimmer our real life will be.
Lyric Prose with Lonely Soul 2 Looking at the arrival of the night, I can't feel the joy of getting off work at all. This is my fifth year wandering in this city. As a foreigner, I left my hometown and wandered in this lonely city. I don't know why I have been staying here. Maybe I stayed here because of someone, and now that person has long gone, but I haven't left. Not love, but other places are no different to me. I am like a ghost in hell, watching other ghosts suffer or be happy.
Lit a cigarette casually, took two breaths, spit out a smoke ring and drifted away silently. Keep your eyes on the front, thinking you can see something, and finally find that the world without focus has no direction. Many times I choose to take the bus or light rail, from the starting point to the end point, and then from the end point to the starting point. My thoughts are empty, and people who stop and go are in a hurry, and no one pays attention to a young man sitting in the corner. Everyone is too busy. Stay for two hours, get up and go back to your place silently.
It was a very old community, and the landlord was a retired old man, who simply rented it to me at a relatively cheap price and never saw it again. Paying the rent and making a phone call is the only intersection between us. I may see you again when I leave here.
A person's room is always quiet, you can hear your own heartbeat, beating regularly. Every time I go back to the house, it's always after dark. Many times, dinner is just a bucket of instant noodles, and the fun is only to taste all the flavors sold by several brands. Midnight arrival, looking at the neon lights flashing in the distance outside the window, sitting by the window alone, occasionally thinking about the past, thinking about how many people still have me in their memories, probably forgetting it. The child next to me is screaming for food again. In fact, some people still remember themselves. Look, it's not!
Another day passed, lying in bed, my thoughts slowly left me. I haven't thought about what tomorrow will be like for a long time. Yesterday is no different from today, so what's the difference between tomorrow and today? Days just repeat day after day.
Sometimes I ask myself, are you lonely? Maybe!