Original link: https://blog.aeilot.top/2023/03/12/breeze/
The boy’s long hair flutters in the breeze and bright May.
There is also a hint of soil in the breath, the flutters are flying, and the flowers are sprinkled on the ground. Did last night’s rain soak the delicate green leaves, and the sleeping vegetation will grow wildly when they wake up. In summer, cicadas sing.
In the deep ocean where the stars are shifting, birds fly across the night sky. The looming ripples in the air are like those days when the seagulls splashed water like ice flowers hitting the ice.
The boy looked at it like this. Looking at the window, thinking in the small courtyard. The sound of chickens and dogs outside the courtyard gate continued, and in an invisible corner, perhaps pedestrians awakened the sleeping vitality. But where are the pedestrians? late at night. …
The young man is going to go to the invitation in June, and return to the West Lake in the imaginary ink landscape. The canoe on the lake, the driftwood on the water, and the cursive strokes left by the boatman in the water with the oars, are they like the inscriptions in Lanting? There is love before form. A glass of dirty wine, sleepless all night. The film of water vapor attached to the lake is like a fairyland. The boy thought of Sujuan as a girl, turning softly and dancing, touching her emotions. However, through the misty veil of the West Lake, there are still dim lights on the distant mountains that are dark and difficult to discern. Is there a family outside the mountain? Walking in the mountains, farming, drinking, writing poems, chopping firewood to feed the horses. Roaming around the world, looking down on everything.
It’s a pity that the boy set off for a distant place in that May. It was a wonderful trip that maybe only once in a lifetime. Pass through the mountains and fields deep in consciousness, walk on the forest path outside the wilderness city, and step into the sky. The sky may have a limit. Imprisoned here, in the woods, in space, in time. The boy is stuck in the present, and now he cannot escape the shackles of the boy. Inexplicable pain, tears in the corners of the eyes. In the unpredictable time and space, there must be a place in this world that can accommodate young people? sink into the deep sea.
The lake and mountains are beautiful, and it is almost dawn. On board is the smiling face of a girl. Pink sky, light blue lake water, pure white mist. The canoe made of green bamboo has now gone through vicissitudes and turned yellow. Suddenly snowflakes floated up, one by one, in the pink and white clear sky, one by one.
The girl got up and looked at the bow of the boat. Endless lakes and mountains. Will the youth live forever between heaven and earth? Carefree, living in a mountain village. The girl doesn’t know, but maybe the boy exists in her, who knows. An untold story, perhaps told to us next spring?
The girl’s long hair flutters in the clear December breeze.
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