"If there is no sun tomorrow"
Guo Jingming
1
Xiang Siwei said: There is a kind of trouble that is inexplicable. This sentence does not apply to me. Because I have thousands of troubles that are inexplicable. For example, I always worry that if I become a goldfish in my next life, will my tail be very long and beautiful or short and ugly? What if I suddenly forget those chemical equations that I have written thousands of times during the college entrance examination? , will I be so anxious that I shed tears on the spot; if there is no sun tomorrow, then facing the long and lonely night, should I meet a girl with a melancholy knot like a lilac or should I cover my head and sleep? Have a good sleep.
These are all questions.
Originally, I could have gone on vacation as endlessly as the water of the Yellow River, but Xi Murong told me: Youth is a book that is too hasty. So I'm done.
There are days when the Yellow River stops flowing.
Two
"Well, the night in Chengdu/is it dark/is it as dark as the temples in Qingcheng/is it as dark as the bluestone road/well, let me ask you/it's you My long hair is black/My thoughts are still black."
I originally went to the "Under the Banyan Tree" website to read Xiao Yin's poems, but I ended up seeing such a "black" poem that was like a folk song. What I want to tell Xiaoyin is: the night in Chengdu is very dark.
It was already dusk when I got on the plane in Chengdu. The whole city shimmered under my feet, and when I passed through the thin clouds, the lights under my feet were like stars in the sky, and the black land, the black basin where I was born and raised, really Like a dark sky. And above my head was the same scene.
There are stars above your head and feet. This looks like a beautiful illusion.
Perhaps in this sense, the dark night can also be very beautiful.
If there is no sun tomorrow, how far will the night spread?
Baby Annie said: When dusk comes and the twilight closes, my fingers begin to move.
Anne is a special person, an unusually wandering soul. She always writes late at night, writing down her beautiful phantoms that seem to grow in the water. And I read too much of her writing, so I also developed a bad habit of writing late at night.
In the early hours of the morning, my restless inspirations will start to jump, falling from my fingers with a clanking sound, and falling on the paper with the sound of diamonds. I became accustomed to facing the computer in the strong aroma of Nescafe coffee and in the suffocating darkness of the night. I kept doing it until I was exhausted and collapsed on the bed, convulsing with happiness.
If there is no sun tomorrow, I think I can write a lot of words, and then sell them to the editor who loves me a little, and then I will have a lot of money, and then I can buy back that My beloved badminton racket is gone.
If there is no sun tomorrow, maybe it is a good thing.
Three
If there is no sun tomorrow, how huge will the next night be?
The viviparous child was born in the zero degree of darkness. Shu Ting's poems.
When the night expands again and again with a stubborn attitude, the boundless darkness either makes me stiff or makes my blood boil. And this state is very hysterical, I know it.
At night, I like to lie on the bed alone and look at the black sky through the tall glass windows, watching the dark white clouds drift across the sky, exuding a lonely and cool atmosphere.
I also like to squat on the side of the road and watch the large swaths of sycamore leaves falling chaotically. If it’s cold, just hug my knees. This is a good gesture, like a lonely good boy.
If there is no sun tomorrow, I think I should shed a good tear in that dark night.
I am a person who loves what-ifs, really. One of the most common what-ifs I make is: if time goes back two years.
If time goes back two years, I don’t think I will go to a high school that is so tiring and numbing. I think I will choose a technical secondary school and a major and live casually, and never look back; I will be like that clever girl from Peking University who "must skip elective courses and skip required courses"; I will write many, many manuscripts and hand them over to editors I am familiar with; I will continue to work hard to do my best. The radio program until it is known to everyone; I will learn the piano to make my fingers extremely flexible, instead of twisting my fingers from all kinds of incredible angles to use the left-hand rule and the right-hand rule like now.
However, Einstein told me that the hypothesis would not hold true.
So I can only walk quickly along the wall with a pile of math papers, or I can only occasionally look up from the pile of books to look at the lonely clouds and lively wind in the sky, or I can only continue to be stiff or stiff at night boiling.
The dark night scares me.
Four
If there is no sun tomorrow, then the dark night will really make me panic.
Although I am deeply infatuated with those beautiful illusions and black flowers that bloom in the dark night, if I were given a choice, I would rather have the sun shine tomorrow.
I think I still love sunshine deep in my heart.
Just like I told my friend that I am actually a quiet person at heart but occasionally noisy for no apparent reason, but my friend told me that in fact you are a noisy person at heart but occasionally quiet for no apparent reason.
Many times a thing can be justified from two aspects.
I like to sit in the golden sunshine flowing like water on the balcony during the day, holding a very thick English dictionary in my hand, and reading those very long English entries. This is me The quietest time. Most of the time I am restless, and my deskmate always reminds me frequently: Don’t go crazy.
There is always a girl with long braids on the balcony opposite my house who is seriously reciting some English grammar, but unfortunately many of it is wrong. When she reads English, she is very serious, gritting her teeth, and looks very much like my junior high school classmate. My deskmate also wore slender braids, but her face was very blurry. Memories are like a pile of glass fragments scattered on the ground. It will take a long time to put them together. Besides, there is no eraser or other things on hand to remind me of her at the same table.
The memory has been lost, at a certain dusk on a certain day of a certain month of a certain year.
A bloody sunset that will never come back.
Too hasty, too hasty, is sad, sad.
The cherries are red, the bananas are green, you walk on your single-plank bridge, I sing my sunset tune, whose loneliness is like a knife, killing my grandma's bridge and my Nian Nujiao.
The beautiful Duras said: When a person begins to like memories, then he has already begun to grow old.
I think I am trying to remember, or I am trying to grow old.
I guess I'm really a crazy person.
"Three Steps to Love". Zhu Ziqing's "Back View".
"The Joy of Snowflakes" Xu Zhimo "Under the Banyan Tree" "Broken Arrow"