1
The fig tree in the yard behind the building has all its leaves, and there is a hat on its head, which is crimson and wrapped like silk. The branches raised above the roof became a shortcut for the cats that haunted the place. The poplar trees in front of the building all stood upright, as clean as a wisp of wind. The birds that emerged from under the eaves found Paradise and jumped on the branches with joy.
The road was turned upside down. The reburying of water pipes turned the quiet courtyard into a bustling construction site. There are ditches and trenches, crowds of people, forklifts that suddenly appear, and the sudden sound of cutting. Tools have turned into weapons, and constructive actions with clear intentions have become like aggression due to their penetration into the orderly life scene. At the same time, a slow rain joined in, turning the mud into a chaotic mess. Someone exclaimed: "The ground is stripped of its threads." The previous piece of cloth was no longer there, it was torn badly, and there were messy threads everywhere that were difficult to connect. The corridors are covered with overlapping marks, making the mud, as a label of chaos, carried all the way home. Later, the pipes connecting to the underground followed one after another.
The people in the yard expressed their utmost understanding for "the inconvenience caused to you by the construction." How many years has that captive well been used for drinking? The former water tower is no longer there, along with the wormwood that accompanied the water tower and the children hiding in the wormwood bushes. The well continued to provide water. The tap water is connected to the well water in the yard. This is something that makes people proud just thinking about it. Until recent years, water quality issues have been mentioned again and again, and people have begun to examine the water in rice pots. More and more people are looking far away from the near. People carrying plastic buckets and water bottles can be seen in the yard every day. The nearby hospital paid no attention to the people coming in and out. Later, the guard who noticed something was stopping him. Later, it became commonplace and I didn’t say anything anymore.
Most of the people walking around in the yard are old people. Those still familiar faces have been washed over and over again by time to bear witness to the lightest weight. The hurried and unfamiliar adult world that was once looked up to has now merged into one. As the perspective changes, the rows of bungalows turn into building blocks in memory, with the playground, auditorium, fish pond and old willow trees submerged in them. Only by turning the Rubik's Cube in your hand can they all come together. The courtyard that was once as far as the eye could see is now separated by a fence. That is a real barrier, falling in front of you, between every line of sight and the past. You can see it, but you can no longer come in and out freely. The yard has become smaller, so small that there are only narrow passages left. Walkers squeeze themselves into it, stretching their staggering backs longer and longer. Every day, people sitting on this side of the fence literally look across. Beyond the fence is the bright campus of a middle school. Lilacs carry the seeds of spring, and the neat poplar trees are the leaders standing beside the playground.
There are still some fresh faces hanging around the yard. Compared with the solemn elders, they are tender buds and cheerful colorful balloons. Not those children who know everything. They can never hide it, and the familiar faces can be seen at a glance. No secrets can be hidden in the yard. These children who appeared in groups lined up and filed out from a certain corridor, with the leader holding a flag. When several decent-looking teams suddenly appeared in the courtyard, the swarming formation and chirping noise were comparable to the campus across the road. The same words as next to the elementary school appear on the tenant's window in the courtyard: School House. This courtyard near a key primary school is very popular. It is common to see a business card-sized house purchase information posted on the wall and corner: "I want to buy a house in this community."
The yellow shuttle bus stops at a specially designated location. To prevent other vehicles from stopping, lines were drawn on the ground, words were written on them, and ropes were wrapped around them. Every day, Lao Zhao goes in and out four times and parks his large car in an exclusive area just a short distance from the gate. No one doubts the skills of the driver, Lao Zhao. His history of playing with the steering wheel is hidden in the hair roots of his temples and will be discovered over time. Once upon a time, the driver Zhao was fat and had a bad temper. Now, the driver, Lao Zhao, has lost his stomach and his temper. At fifty-nine years old, I still can’t bear to put down the steering wheel. In the morning, you can watch Lao Zhao staggering away with a glass of water from the car window. The cart was swaying as it drove out of the gate. The people sitting in the car were very impressed by Lao Zhao's skills. It was like witnessing him driving the car very fast back then, and now allowing Master Zhao to carefully drive the car out of the narrow passage little by little.
2
The pothos hanging on the wall has faded in color and become increasingly sparse. I don’t know when it started, but it became what it is now. I still remember that it was summer and I was holding her while walking on the road. Suddenly I heard someone calling from the side. This flower is so beautiful. Where did you buy it? The other party doesn’t know that this is pothos. Pothos does not bloom, and the hanging green branches and vines are her flowers. There was one word that was given to her without even thinking about it, whirling.
The cactus on the balcony has not changed, and it has never grown. My mother warned me several times. Buy a pot of cactus. It is good for people who sit in front of computers for a long time. It is anti-radiation. Yi Yan bought it and put it in front of the computer. One day, a flying ball hit the cactus and punctured it. After some time, someone accidentally knocked over the cactus on the table. The spike ball turned over and the dish shattered. Later, the prickly pear stayed in a bowl and was placed on the balcony. The sun shines through the glass. Occasionally, I go to see her by myself, but I never see anything good.
I can still smell the grapes.
From the distant autumn wind, from the few words left behind, from the scorching light of noon, they come over and over again. It was light at first, then became strong and lingering. What I will never forget is the dense light pouring in at noon, covering myself with the grapes. There are grapes everywhere. My hands, clothes, eyes and breath were all stained with the smell of grapes. There are grape trellises in front of you. I inspected every grape I passed and listened to the sound of grape skins and pulp peeling off. The wide-necked bottle is filled with splashes of grape liquid. At noon, I began to imagine the green vineyards in the distance. It was not an imaginary place, but I was in it.
There is a smell that the ears can hear. A friend mentioned that the taste she experienced was really wonderful and she seemed very intoxicated. What I drank without realizing it was wine. In autumn, when I also found grapes, I began to implement a conspiracy. The sealed, squeezed grapes are packed with sugar, and with shining eyes, the rest is time. Fermentation is a free movement and proceeds soundly and colorfully through a layer of transparent glass. A person's watchfulness contains curiosity and patience. One week passed, and another week passed. Impatient people have already tasted it several times. My vessel remains sealed. What was happening before my eyes was a secret. When brewing becomes action, private brewing naturally becomes a kind of private possession. I carefully guard the secrets about grapes. Looking forward to one day pouring out aged wine from that transparent glass jar.
Three
There is a smell of smoke in the corridor. Some people like to smoke in the building. After the person left, what else did Yan think about? He didn't follow him, so he had to stay where he was. The rain has been falling for how long, and it has no intention of stopping. At this time, the ground became a mirror, illuminated by a beam of car lights. In an instant, the person hiding at the dark staircase could no longer be hidden. The wind came from the opposite direction and hit the face in the darkness, eager to break in through the open window.
Father is back. He sat in the car and waited for the door to open. When the car door opened and his mother stepped forward to help him, his legs were still fixed in place and did not move. He didn't know how to leave his seat next, and he was suddenly unsure. Finally, with the help of his mother's extended arm, his father stood up. My father's legs had no strength, as if he had suddenly forgotten how to walk. He didn't know how to swing his legs or whether he could step on the steps in front of him. Raindrops fell on his hat and thick coat. My father had a scarf wrapped around his neck, tightly wrapped twice, and his mouth was covered.
My father was discharged from the hospital. After two months in the hospital, his body became a burden. Walking became the most difficult thing. He could only slowly and tentatively take out his legs and needed help from others to complete the walk. Every Tuesday evening, I would stand at the stairs waiting for my father to come back from the hospital. Waiting for him to be helped out of the car by his mother. Then, my brother held his right arm in front, and my mother and I were in the back, each carrying his legs upstairs. The younger brother is tall, has a steady pace, and speaks words of encouragement from time to time. Some simple ladder-like figures appear one after another. These numbers relate to stairs, to fathers and sons, and they are powerfully exhaled from the mouth of a grown man like flashcards.
Due to illness, my father has always lived in seclusion. I started having abdominal dialysis three years ago and the condition is good. Lest the infection that appears does not occur, accidents still occur unexpectedly. Severe leakage occurred in the peritoneum, and he had to undergo hemodialysis. From then on, my father needed to go to the hospital twice a week for hemodialysis. The source of life flows in the veins that no one can see. They are fresh and vivid, clean and powerful. Power is never meant to be seen. When the originally quiet territory is brought into view again and again, safety and privacy disappear before our eyes. From the day of the operation, the blood in my father's body no longer completely belonged to him, because they not only flow quietly inside a person's body, they need to flow through a majestic and precise instrument to be filtered, washed, and Monitor. At the same time, my father's strength disappeared, disappeared in the blood flowing through the body, disappeared in the journey, disappeared in the bed where he lay still.
My mother said that the patient who claimed that he "didn't want to eat tomorrow" now has a very good appetite. Eat four meals a day and your face will look rosy. But my father’s appetite remains the same. He couldn't eat much and felt like vomiting after eating meat. Great weight loss. My mother's expression was gloomy, and she often sighed involuntarily when carrying her father on her back. She had thought she could at least keep the status quo. Even if you undergo peritoneal dialysis three or four times a day, you will go out in a hurry and stay at home most of the time. She was not fully prepared to face another change. Every time, before opening the car door, my mother always looks around to see if there are people on the road and waits for them to leave. She said that in summer, you have to wear long-sleeved clothes when going out.
One morning, my father told his mother that he dreamed of his second brother again. My father had dreamed of his dead brother more than once. He said that the second brother looked the same as before, and asked him what he was doing. He replied that the eldest brother was doing well, and that his parents and aunt missed him very much and hoped that he would go and see them. The father woke up and told his mother the dream. That night, my brother and his mother burned paper for their second uncle at the intersection facing their hometown. My mother said, your eldest brother is in poor health and timid. If I give you money, you can have a good time there and don't come back again.
My father was lying on the bed, and the door was always closed. Once I heard him calling mother, I pushed the door open and went in. He said, move the stool over there.
I put the maza in front of the bed back to its original position. After a while, I heard his voice again, asking for the paper on the side. He wanted to use it. One time, when I came back from the hospital, my father was sitting on the bed. I was taking off his shoes and heard his stomach rumbling. Mother is busy making dumplings for him. Before leaving, he asked his mother how much he had eaten just now. The mother counted and said, eight dumplings. Every time I go to see him, I ask for a *** before I leave. I rubbed his back, squeezed his legs, and squeezed his feet. Then I heard him say thank you, and I was so moved. Time stepped on his back. I could see every bone in his body. That time, I gave him a massage, and my hand was so painful from the bones that I couldn't stop the tears that welled up. Dad, eat well.
He sat on the edge of the bed and I took off his shoes and clothes. Every time he got up, he took the comb from the pillow and combed his hair. The curtains were dark, curled, and wrinkled. The photos under the glass plate on the table were stripped of their colors by the light, and only the black and white photos were still clear. My father's face is still the same as before. The books in the window on the side, even though they are covered with a layer of glass, look gray when they meet the thin figures.
4
Keep the desktop cluttered. Even if I changed to one with a cabinet, the books were still crowded. The new faces that keep appearing, with their burning breath, eager to stand sideways, make the former ones have to lie down or fall over. I paid no attention to this situation and even condoned the spread of this phenomenon. Sometimes, messiness is a mood, let it bloom and flow freely. Freedom can be found anytime and anywhere. It is a pen that has not found its cap, and it is also some unclear words.
I often forget something and can’t remember whether I have done it or not. Some dates seem to be hidden on the ground, always falling easily and being forgotten inadvertently. But I had no intention of looking for it, I just waited for one day to stare at the messy ball of silk that suddenly appeared. I forget the time, and every day always comes when I can't see it, and slips away unknowingly.
Once, I failed to catch the shuttle bus and watched the yellow shadow drive away from the front. The people standing there were pushed further and further away by the car. I once believed that a bicycle is more like a dragonfly, flying up and down lightly. Then, the huge shuttle bus is like a swimming yellow house. The yellow house is neatly laid out, and there are always familiar faces on the neat seats. I remember that day, the yellow house left and I didn’t wait for the taxi. In the end, I went to a school more than 20 miles away after many twists and turns.
No more rushing to catch the bus when not in class. Every day has its own definition. The trivialities of daily life are left unchecked by life and hidden everywhere. It’s the adventures locked in words, the students’ homework piled together, and the scattered thoughts that have nowhere to put them. The living person seemed to have become a phantom, disappearing and never appearing again. I thought that if I kept these things slowly and never gave up, time would pass more slowly. But who would have known that even such days are monitored by a clock and marked with equidistant scales. One day, I suddenly found that the green radish was wilted. I still remember the green radish that bloomed in the past. Passers-by said that the flower was so beautiful.
Sometimes I dream at night, but I usually can’t remember it when I wake up. It seems that those dreams are concerned with the difference from the world. Once, when I woke up, I still remembered that I mentioned in my dream to a friend I had never met that "last year's poems are still growing on the trees." It has the same meaning, but the taste has completely changed. Therefore, for the poems that occasionally visited during the day, I followed the old pattern of "Clear Water Washes the Dust".
The year before last
The picture of the sun on the wall had not yet appeared
A few unsigned poems were still hidden in the cracks of the cellar
Grandma lives by the Yellow River
She has not returned to the sun-drenched village
The boy climbed along the wall
Outpacing any ivy
Even if we are racing in the wild
Who can compare with him
Running from one spring to the next in one breath
I still live in In the old old house
The shadows in the afternoon often filled its organs
I have not painted it and I have no intention of abandoning it
Is tinnitus considered a disease< /p>
I often hear bursts of drum beats but can’t find the source
…
Wu
The movie in the afternoon was purely accidental. Accidents often occur due to a sudden thought, such as an interrupted driving route. Getting off the bus in the middle caused the route to change, and for a moment it became shaky because the destination was lost. A small action can easily change the direction of life. I stood on the street, thinking about the turning point I was about to face, and I had already reached a new intersection that went in the opposite direction. A person who has temporarily deviated from the track of life hopes to see the colors of a different afternoon. I had the experience coupon that my colleague had given me earlier in my pocket, and the Poly Cinema was just around the corner. Undoubtedly, the emergence of cinemas has drawn a fascinating arc.
The elevator that goes straight up and down is scary. Those tall glasses separate the space, making it airtight but visible to each other. I didn't feel safe at all in the glass box. People who are afraid of heights always make a surprise attack on those who have lost their foundation when they leave the ground. I turned my back on the dangers that were everywhere and fled like the wind the moment the elevator opened.
When did the resistance to uncontrollable machinery begin? When encountering an emergency brake, other people's reaction is just the pitching of the body and the unexpected shaking, which always brings me exclamation. Then, everyone followed the sound and looked around.
It was dark in the cinema. Each divided hall has its own name. The scale is much smaller than before, but different movies can be shown at the same time. This gives moviegoers a choice. The suddenly shrinking space caused the scattered people sitting down to find a hard shell. The movie theater in the afternoon was quiet, even lonely. There is room for so many empty seats and shadowy stories. Magic box in general. Is it an expression of escape or devotion? Sit down and you will no longer hear the creaking sound. The high-quality sound fills the air and sweeps you away. There is no previous noise and bustle here, only empty people and empty containers remain. The theater was strictly closed in the afternoon.
When did this search begin? A story of gestation, where the destined crowd meets the moving image. The director of the film is a magician, analyzing and controlling the development of events in specific changing scenes. The fleeting life of Yunyan in the past is vividly displayed, and people are looking for truth and falsehood, love and hate, past and present lives in the images. Joys and sorrows are the catalyst for laughter and tears, and are indispensable sugar and salt. What about darkness? In a world where everything is recreated, darkness is also created. However, at this time it does not represent coldness, confusion or embarrassment, it only serves as a necessary environment, just like the natural fall of night, allowing the heavy door and curtain to pull out the light cord. The meaning of darkness lies in presentation. Light and shadow tear a gap and appear from one direction.
Is the meaning of life also presented here? The light dwelling in the darkness began to speak, softly, lest it disturb others. At first, there was only a faint light, and the blackness of the black field surpassed the surrounding darkness, as if it were a ship floating in the darkness. A voice that has long been familiar in life came out. The music that has been lost for a long time is gurgling, blowing gently in my ears like the wind. The light is concentrated into a beam, and its power is greatly increased, and it shoots directly above the head. What appeared one after another were streets, houses, backs, legs, feet, and finally a face that turned around. The colors are highlighted, and they are rich and intense that you cannot see in life. What kind of light can make a person so dim and so radiant? It seems like it shines into everyone's heart? It turned out to be him and her. Suddenly I saw what life looks like, and I saw a person's heart, which turned out to be like a lake. From far to near, or from near to far. The ever-changing lenses are like the omnipresent eyes of God, capturing clues. Sometimes, a strong premonition strikes, and the mind seems to receive an oracle, and suddenly, the prediction comes true. From beginning to end, it is just wishful thinking of a happy ending, trying to lead the happy crowd to the fairy tale realm. The open way is more like life itself, making the ending serve as a kind of paragraph, continuing to realize various possibilities that are unforeseen in reality.
Regardless of whether you want to believe it or abandon it and stay away, the stage style is still maintained in front of you. Firmly framed, selected, and restricted by the painting frame, it is presented with a given meaning. No matter how time and space flow, no matter how ecstatic you are, when the light suddenly appears, the image is still swaying in front of you, and the unfamiliar figure is stepping from one reality to another. Outdoors, there are always two possibilities, the day is bright, or the sky is full of stars.
Stepping out of the theater, my back was shining brightly in the afternoon. Before that, I had called a friend in a nearby antique city. The other party happily talked about his recent gains. The man who counts the coins of the past is intoxicated with the taste of the past that has been left behind. Coins that have expired over time are being looked at again because of time. Is the life that has lost attention only begun to be watched seriously because of entering the movie?
Lu
Finally bought a bowl from the roadside, took the cactus out of the bowl and put it in. For a moment, the colors seemed brighter. This thing is green all year round and grows on its own. When did dryness serve as the most suitable living environment?
After the pipes were re-laid, the ground was covered with long-lived dust, as if it was rusty. Starting to look forward to a heavy snowfall to completely wash it away. In the end, Xue didn't come either, but two fully armed cleaning staff did. Wearing masks, they waved brooms vigorously, causing dust to fly. He didn't even care if someone came from the other side. The dust rising all over the sky flew up and fell again, like a battlefield. After sweeping, the floor looks clean. The ditch was once paved with cement, and someone stepped on it before it was dry, leaving shoe marks. I thought about what it would be like if I left a bird's paw print. But the bird stopped on the tree and refused to fall down.
The wine was opened and the aroma overflowed. The private secrets are so deep that they reveal the taste of time. I wanted to give it to my father to try, but I couldn't bear to mention it when we met. Diabetes is the most unreasonable disease in the world. I worked hard to accumulate the beautiful events in my ordinary life and share them with my father on the sickbed. And every time he sees me, he is happy, even if there is not much expression on his face. He would often sit up in bed and listen to what interesting things had happened recently. The mother said that when he was in the hospital, the father would always mention his little daughter to others and show off. But people don’t know what a writer is. I know my father is relieved in his heart. Every time I visit my father, if there is an article I have just finished writing, I will bring it to him and read it to him. Sometimes, he will express his opinions, praise or point out shortcomings.
Sometimes, while reading, I saw him closing his eyes and breathing evenly. I thought I was asleep, so I stopped. After a while, I heard my father speaking, why didn’t I read it anymore?
A bird flew by my window and landed on the tree. One person watched intently and greeted others. It was a strange bird, with a large body and an eye-catching streamlined body. What is even more attractive is the way it flies, with its wings spread out and gliding steadily. It’s as if the sky is its skating rink. The little head is extremely alert, and the expression can be seen light and flowing. That bird is so beautiful. The beautiful bird landed in the tree on the other side of the fence. There are also trees and homes on this side of the fence. There are just more trees over there. Birds apparently don't have those scruples. Besides, those fences are not for them. That's the boundary between the two units. Birds have no units. It chooses wood to live in. So, that evening, a flock of birds flew over the trees behind the building, jumping from this tree to that tree. Ups and downs, so uncomfortable. Someone must have seen these strange birds from the window. Point with your finger and look, there are so many birds, so beautiful.
In December, thin ice appears on the surface of the pond. In winter, it stands so plainly by the pool, which makes people feel calm. That elemental energy just stays with the silent bluestone. The windows were closed tightly, not a bit of color leaking in. Light up the lamp, night is coming. Time slides past the thin ice of the pool in the morning, past the midday light reflecting on the tram, and past the withered bamboo shadow falling into the setting sun, slowly and slowly. I saw the inkwell and the discarded pens gathered together, and I didn’t know which one to pick up. A group of unknown numbers appeared in the corner, and time emerged. The warmth of the heater is within reach, trying to get closer to the edge of spring.