1
Birds in the sky showed me the form of freedom. As direct witnesses, I, birds and birds roam the sky under the same background, forming a unified form of presence. I am a bird and the sky. There is no subject here, or the subject has joined the object, assimilated by the object and become the object itself.
But if I stay in an artificial room and feel the birds in the sky through the window, my identity as a participant is doubtful, the surrounding walls and thin glass will become my obstacles, and I will feel imprisoned and isolated realistically. Perhaps, I can regard birds as my swimming consciousness and put them into my subjective consciousness, but this can't get rid of my sense of being imprisoned, but it strengthens it.
I was isolated in the room, and he couldn't blend into the whole bird and sky as a gift. This house is a cage. Outside the cage, the sky and birds surround me with endless existence.
This is an ordinary afternoon. When I wrote this sentence, I remembered many afternoons like this, and many afternoons recalled the previous afternoons. Maybe one day in the future, I will also recall this moment, which is certain. But at that time, I was separated from me at this moment by yin and yang, and now I am my future deceased. I am alive at this time, but in the future, I am dead at this time.
2
I've been thinking about me in time. He is so lonely, like a shadow. I can only see his back, not the expression on his face. He was dreaming, walking in the dream, talking in the dream, and dreaming all the time. I looked at him as if I were watching a dream, a sleepwalker. Because I am awake at the moment, but now, at the moment, I am awake, but this moment will become a dream in the future, and I am still sleepwalking.
But I know that there must be a moment when I will never feel the present, this moment or an ordinary afternoon. Of course, there will be no more memories, memories, and the shadow of past sleepwalking.
three
It is a winter afternoon, and the sky outside has calmed down. The mountains, trees, snow-covered land, villages and houses in the distance have turned me into a faint confusion. There are many afternoons like this, I sat by the window, looked up from the page and looked out of the window, feeling the same faint mood.
The wife and daughter in the room are asleep, and they are also part of this afternoon. My daughter just came back not long ago. When she didn't come back, only my wife slept in this afternoon, but then I began to imagine my daughter coming back and the moment I was enjoying myself silently.
This moment comes as scheduled, which proves the irreversible extension of time. According to the same nature, my daughter will leave sometime in the near future. At this time, the position she occupies will be vacant, and I can only restore this position by imagination. At this time, my daughter is really sleeping there, and her slight breathing confirms her existence in my life.
This moment is precious because I can't keep it forever. Imagining ahead of time hurts me, making me feel so sad while enjoying some warmth. All these sleeping wives and daughters don't know. They sleep happily in time, while I am happy and sad in time.
Li Yunfeng, formerly known as Li Yunfu. 1born in 1966, published novels, essays and poems in dozens of magazines such as Sunshine, Writer's World, Yan 'an Literature and Hundred Flowers Garden. 20 1 1-20 12 won the first prize of Yan 'an Literature and was a writer in Jilin Province.