A clay knife has been chopped all my life, but it has not cut off the barriers and barriers of poverty. A fast knot of poverty is still firmly tied to the rope of fate.
Poverty is like a vicious dog's melon seeds, constantly tearing at the corner of the mud knife. There are claws for children's tuition, claws for sick old people, claws for daily necessities ... chasing behind the mud knife.
A mud knife has nowhere to escape, no way to escape, no choice. You can only relieve your inner responsibility with sweaty work and the hardships of breaking bricks and tiles.
A mud knife, in the years of tempering, in the polishing of sweat, always presents a sharp blade. Its dull blade can't cut a living sky, nor can it cut a ray of sunshine of life. Day after day, year after year of wear and tear can only make a mud knife dull and thin.
A clay knife, for the rich, for the rich, built a mansion; Build a separate yard for the foreman and the boss. However, they are unable to change their humble abode. The sharp contrast in reality often makes a mud knife mistakenly think that their existence is a relic of a previous life.
Whenever a construction site is completed, a mud knife will always leave silently. Who knows what kind of taste and mood is behind this silence?
Whenever a body wrapped in a leather bag stays in a house built by itself, a mud knife always hides in the corner and peeks happily. At that moment, the mud knife's heart was dark as night. ...
Take a walk in the river
A dry river, how many days without water?
Weeds are overgrown on the shore, sand and stones are piled up at the bottom of the river, and an empty sadness and loneliness are looming, covering me thick.
Standing by the river, I sincerely asked: Is it hard to be abandoned by water?
There is no singing of European birds, no running water, and there is dead silence everywhere. ...
A sincere hot question didn't get a response, which immediately made me embarrassed and boring. The huge space doesn't belong to me, and I shouldn't break into this long dusty years!
It's hard to decide, but it's also hard to do. My mind becomes blurred and my legs become difficult.
At this moment, a thirsty mouth became a lingering image in my mind. A shriveled hand reached into my body and groped for it, rummaging through my unforgettable history. The past is vivid, like water passing by.
In that water, there are the sadness of drowning people and the helplessness of swimmers. ...
annual ring
A big tree, the above section, carefully arranged makes me speechless for a long time.
Ring after ring, stringing the life of the tree; Circle the rings and draw the history of the tree.
The density of annual rings is the uneven nutrition between good years and bad years; The rings overlap somewhere, which is a lump on the tree. ...
It silently recorded all its life experiences in detail, without any omission.
Seeing these circles reminds me of the history of early human knotting and the origin of writing.
A tree and a person are just different species. In fact, there is little difference: people have feet, trees have roots, people have bodies, trees have stems, people have arms, trees have skills, people have hair, trees have leaves, people breathe through their mouths and nostrils, trees breathe in and out with green leaves, people can walk, trees can't, and people can grow to more than two meters in their lifetime.
If we want to know more secrets in wood, we humans must go deep into wood. Let mankind's sense of superiority and contempt for wood return to justice!