After the holiday, the days in early spring were relaxed. The afternoon sun, yellow, penetrated into the room through the window lattice and shone everywhere. I am a little confused and used to being surprised by things around me in silence. I looked at the bright physique of the sun, as if to distinguish its colorful intertwined colors and chase its seamless flow. When I saw it reflected cleanly on the desk, I felt a kind of tranquility, a kind of spiritual exuberance and a sense of leisure on the desktop. Or how clean are the so-called windows? There is a mysterious expectation and a poetic atmosphere. That kind of silence, in which you can hear the flowing spring, the piano seems to be intermittent, whispering a lonely person's own wrong tone. When I saw the same sunshine hitting the ground, I felt the shadow of flowers floating on the ground, and the faint fragrance was floating around. People are changing with the light at noon. That kind of dynamic, soft and harmonious, like silent music, makes people feel carefree and light, and falls off unconsciously. At most, in Shu Yang's rational objectivity, I occasionally look back at the remnants of childhood memories, which is a little sorry for the time; It's a little strange that time can't save emotions, and can't save the realm where all emotions have wandered.
Leaning on a soft chair is not only a luxury, but also a fault and a leisure fault. But Dongpo's defense:? Lazy people are often quiet. Is silence a lazy person? , is not without reason. If you don't lean on the sofa at the moment? Quiet? And then just that emotional circle was unconditionally lost! People don't regret it, but they really can't help but feel the sadness of this intimate loss.
It can only be said that it is a small emotional journey. There is no need to stay, but let's go before we start. In the final analysis, what do we cherish most in this world? Do you really cherish the activities of people as the spirit of all things, the so-called human culture? What does this human culture depend on? We suspect that it may be just a pinch of spiritual and physical feelings, emotions caused by physiology and psychology, a series of actions inspired by it, and a little accumulation of wisdom. So a little bit of human performance. Everything in the universe has nothing to cherish objectively, and the mountains, rivers, flowers and animals embodied in human nature have begun to have beauty, temperament and empathy. Reflected in human nature, not to mention people themselves. Without human feelings and feelings, even if there is nature, there will be no natural beauty, not to mention human wisdom, human creation and artistic expression of all life. In this case, who should despise the little trip they feel? In order to strengthen our courage, we should believe that only when human beings have this kind of emotional gallop can the real world continue to produce the essence of cultural relics entrusted by our spirit.
At this moment, I can cough a little and even say in a mellow tone on the radio: Since we undoubtedly cherish culture, do we respect Pangu's various arts to this day? Whether it is the art of abstract thought or the unnatural image created by manipulating natural materials, how to cherish the origin of art and a little bit of human feelings and emotional wisdom (collectively referred to as human emotions) is reasonable?
But the emotional gallop is obviously not the completion of poetry or painting or any other artistic construction. Although this gallop occupies some time in my life at the moment, it does not occupy any small position in space! This situation needs to be fully understood by yourself. At the moment, it is just a stream without trace, and there is no habitable body. It may contain various or elusive qualities, but no one but myself can explore this quality curiously and show its mission in detail, whether it is meaningful or not. At this moment, I realize that for a pleasant sunshine, I am paying attention to all kinds of associations that change in my inner communication. In other words, this kind of curiosity and interest is already an activity in my life at the moment. A force forced me to seize this activity and try to express it. This irresistible impulse, or the so-called artistic impulse, is unknown! I only remember that Du Gongbu took a walk and looked at the flowers in a calm day, but there must be one, right? The river is annoyed by flowers, and there is nowhere to tell. Emotional disorder! Exquisite and warm sunshine shines in front of people, and that kind of beauty is as touching as flowers. I can't divide my emotions into leisure and reality and then decide which one to choose. I only have emotional disorders.
The emotional journey was an accident. Starting today, it is still for the sunshine at noon in early spring. There are two kinds of luxurious lights in the room, which often make me feel nervous like a flower, riding the breeze of feeling and spreading deep among the cold branches and leaves. One is candlelight, a tall pedestal, a long candle hanging down, and a red flame burning when the curtain is opened. That kind of flicker is bright, elegant and ancient. It is obviously a scene in the painting, but it contains more poetic elements. The other is the sunshine at noon in early spring. At that time, big movies will be scattered all over the room intentionally or unintentionally. Those window grilles, those pens, will all be bathed in the haze, and then they will all become still life mode. There are red core branches dotted in several places, and the lights in the room are fragrant, which makes people feel spiritual when pitching.
I'm afraid there will be some misunderstandings in this statement. I'm not saying that this sunshine shines into the room, and it needs the elegant foil of pen, ink and ink to impress people. I mean, as long as there is a piece of sunshine falling on it so quietly and freely, everything will bring another touching atmosphere.
Here I want to talk about the sunshine that I first knew. I was six years old that year, remember that I just finished dripping water? Water droplets are common chickenpox, but they are called water droplets in my hometown. At that time, I liked this beautiful name very much and forgot that it was a disease, so I felt a mysterious pride. As long as someone asks through my window? Water droplets? What? I feel very honored. That feeling is still imprinted on my mind. Because of this, I still remember the luxurious and happy mood when I was ill. Although, like many other diseases, I still rest alone in my room. That was the last time we entered the house in the old house; White walls surround the small courtyard, with a row of three rooms in the north and an open hall in the middle. I was sick in Dongtouniang's bedroom. The west side is my aunt's house. My mother and aunt will always exercise women's duties in my grandmother's front yard, so I am often the only left-behind owner of these three houses.
Being sick in those three rooms was an embarrassing experience. Time passes slowly, especially when there is no sleep in Japan and China. At first, I only focused my hearing on all kinds of footsteps, not footsteps. Guess, wait, hope someone will come. From time to time, listen to the trivial sound of the partition wall, coming from under the wall and then dissipating. After a while, I got impatient? I don't remember what it was like, so I tiptoed to the door next to the wooden bed. The door was open diagonally to the hall, and I held the doorframe and looked out curiously.
It was just around two o'clock in the afternoon, and a square table for Zhang Gang's dinner stood in the middle. Under the table, a piece of sunshine falls harmoniously from the entrance of the hall. An absolute silence accompanied by this silent golden crystal suddenly caused an unusual oscillation in my six-year-old child's heart for some reason.
There are not a few cases of floral fragrance and artistic arrangement, but an unusual square table. If I remember correctly, not long ago, there were very simple lunches such as salted fish and pickles on display. The child's heart froze. Maybe I opened my eyes a little wider and looked around, as if looking for an answer to a question. Why is the sunshine so beautiful? I remember sitting on the table in front of the room window, looking out of the window intentionally or unintentionally. The film on the powder wall in the yard is completely different from the golden warmth in the room. By the way, I opened my mother's old mirror box for dressing, shook the row of small drawers up and down, and listened to the crisp birds singing with small copper pendants in carved flower baskets from time to time. In my heart, I still have vague doubts about that ray of sunshine.
More than 20 years have passed, until today, it is such a sunny, unpredictable, incredible and quiet treasure that makes me realize that my question will never be answered. In fact, that's all: a lonely table, a lonely hall in the corner. A clever mirror box, or the intermittent birdsong and water drops outside the window? What's the name of that beautiful child? It happens that it will always be a natural association with the quiet sunshine in early spring in my memory.