Beautiful snowflakes are flying. I haven't seen you for three years. Last year in Fujian, it seemed a little later than now, and I also saw snow. But that's snow on the top of the mountain in the distance, not flying snowflakes. On the plain, it just happened to fall with the rain and never fell to the ground. Its color is gray, not white; Its weight is like raindrops, and it can't fly. As soon as it landed, it melted into water, without trace, jumping or death, just like when it snowed in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. This kind of snow, the old Fujian people I met for the first time in 40 years, can certainly feel special significance and talk about it with relish, but in my opinion, it is always boring. It snows in Fujian, but I don't think so. I like the flying snowflakes in Shanghai. It is "snow-white" white, as beautiful as a flower. It seems to be lighter than air, not falling from the air, but being rolled up from the ground by the air. However, it is like a living creature, like a group of gnats at dusk in summer, like bees in the honey-flowing period in spring. Its busy flight, up or down, fast or slow, or sticking to people, or squeezing into gaps, seems to have its own will and purpose. It is silent. But when it flies, we seem to hear the cries and footsteps of millions of people, the rough waves of the sea, the roar of the forest, and sometimes it seems to hear the earnest whispers of lovers, the quiet evening prayers in the chapel, the cheerful bird songs in the garden ... It brings gloom and cold. But in its flying posture, we saw a charitable mother, a gentle lover, a lively child, smiling flowers, a warm sun, a silent sunset ... it didn't breathe. But when it jumped on our faces, we seemed to smell the fresh air in the wilderness, the elegant orchids in the valley, the rich roses in the garden, and the faint jasmine ... During the day, it made thousands of beautiful gestures; At night, it gives off silver light, shines on our pedestrians, and draws all kinds of flowers and trees on our glass windows, oblique, straight, curved and upside down; And rivers, clouds in the sky ...
Now, beautiful snowflakes are flying. I like it. I haven't seen you for three years. I like the old Fujian people I saw for the first time in forty years. However, like the old Fujian people, I recall my life when it snowed in the past, and now my joy is like snowflakes falling on my desk through a window, which suddenly melts away.
I remember one year in a friend's apartment in Beijing, cooking the best Chinese cabbage and noodles around the stove, drinking wine and peeling peanuts, laughing so hard that I almost forgot I was in a foreign land; Eating all flushed, the two men sang songs all the way and walked unsteadily from the starting point of East Chang 'an Avenue to the end point of West Chang 'an Avenue, forgetting that it was the coldest time in a foreign land. This kind of life, compared with today, can't help but make me feel melancholy. Friends in Shanghai are like machines in a factory, too busy to rest for a moment; Today, when it snowed, they asked me to look after the house, and no one or phone would go. What a lonely, lonely and boring life it is.
"How boring!" Today I heard what was said to me before. As I said when I was in Fujian, I told the old people in Fujian who saw snow for the first time in 40 years.
However, another me appeared. He used to shine a proud eye at me in Beijing. Well, one year when it snowed in Nanjing, I had a relatively happy life: it snowed heavily, covering all fields and roads. My lover and I are walking in the wilderness. We can't tell the path clearly, and there is no end purpose. We just make our feet happy. Our feet often tread happily in the deepest ditch. We never thought it was a wilderness, it was the season of snow. We seem to be in a garden, and the road is flat and soft. We never feel a little cold, because our hearts are hot.
"How boring!" I heard this saying to me in Nanjing and Beijing. Just like what I said to me in Beijing today, just like what I said to the old people in Fujian who saw snow for the first time in 40 years.
However, I still have a more proud me. I live a happier life. In my hometown, when I put my head out of bed in the winter morning, I felt very cold. When I saw the sky was particularly dark through the mosquito net, I knew it was snowing outside first. "The snow is white, and the tiger drags the empress ..." This is the song I repeatedly sang to welcome the snow while lying under the covers. On other mornings, as usual, my mother and sister get up first, and they won't get up until they finish cooking and bring the stove to warm my clothes, shoes and socks, but on snowy days, I have the greatest courage. I don't need a stove. Snow is my stove. I twisted it into a ball, held it and lost it. I piled it into a "monk" and stuffed a cigarette into its mouth. I put it in my mouth as sugar. The thick snow on the ground is my carpet, on which I roll and somersault. It sneered under me, and I responded to it ha ha. My heart is integrated with it. I am as soft as it is, as white as it is. I jump around with it and fly around with it. I stand outside the house, and I hope it will make me a snow monk. I lay on the ground, hoping it would cover me with a soft and beautiful bed like my mother. I would like to fly in the air with it. I am willing to fall on people's shoulders with it. I hope snow is me, I am snow. I am young. I have courage. I have the most precious vitality. I don't know worry, I don't know distress and sadness. ...
"How boring! You old man! " I heard my childhood say this about the past. As I used to proudly tell others.
Yes, all the snow scenes are compared with those of my childhood. The joys of the past and the present are like snowflakes falling on my desk through the window, which suddenly melt away.
However, in the face of those poor people who are in rags, shivering in the corner and even dying in the snow, what is the significance of my happy snowy life as a child? Well, he said to me, "How boring!" What if not?
And what's the point of this dead man holding a frozen machine gun under the Great Wall and about to be smashed into snowflakes by shells? "How boring!" Who should say this sentence?
God, I can't think about it anymore. There is no balance in the joy of the world, and there is no limit to the suffering of the world. The world has no end, and so does mankind. Since I was born today, why should I pursue or miss me outside today? Today, although I am lonely and guarding the house where no one or phone calls come, I can comfortably hide in the house to keep warm and avoid the cold of snow. You can also enjoy the beautiful world of snowflakes flying silently through the glass. Isn't it enough to be complacent?
Seize the reality. Only reality is the most precious.
The world with snowflakes flying in front of us is the most real reality.
Look! Beautiful snowflakes are flying. This is the snowflake that I have missed for three years.