There is a word in the language, as small as a grain of rice and as big as a world. In Qian Zhongshu's pen, there was once an impenetrable city: whether it was marriage or career, the whole life seemed to be in a besieged city, and people could never escape the bondage and tempering given by this besieged city. In the words of Su, a talented woman in the book, this is nothing more than a strange circle in which people in the city want to go out and people outside the city want to rush in. But it is not, it will not be the white illusion of love and freedom in the dream of M. Guo, which we are immersed in after 90 s. It's just a desolate hill covered with thorns, and the dusty soil covered with dead vines depicts his helplessness to yesterday over and over again.
? Ten years of catastrophe, this is a long night, no stars, not even wildfires. In this way, like walkers, we embarked on an unprepared journey under the fog-walking tirelessly, always thinking that you were next to my left hand, reaching out to hold it tightly, but the retracted hand only caught the residual heat left by you in the wind. It turns out that we have long been lost and never remembered; It turns out that the distance between us is just a stone's throw. The soul rises like steam at the end of the fog. When it passes through the other side of the cloud, suddenly, what has never changed is the cloud on the edge of the sky. ......
When the cold air touched my fingers, I looked back and found that a large dark night had surrounded me, stained my pupils and twisted my soul. Black pupils split from the shadows, looking for falsified light. It is like a moth squeezing out a cocoon, a stream flowing out of a stone ditch, and the sun jumping on the horizon. After all, it is unstoppable, and the answer to history is exactly the same.
? Pencil writing, in the final analysis, is not the poet's personal sorrow, but the sorrow of a generation after awakening, and the sorrow of a generation after awakening to see the reality in front of him. When he wanted to spread his wings in the face of painful reality, but he was unable to spread his wings, he felt unprecedented loneliness and loneliness. Finally, he chose to leave with a depressed attitude. .....
? For this wayward child, death is like a serious party flag, solemnly covered with a body that has been carefully facelift and a lot of spices. Compared with these struggling words, it seems so pale and powerless.
? Sunlight penetrates the clouds and reflects the fleeting time. We stood in each other's cities and looked at the distant horizon. Above the horizon is a wall that gradually appears higher in the fog. I know there is a city whose owner has been away for a long time. Later, many people lived on him, and its owner was Gu Cheng. .....