Original link: https://fmcf.cc/2023/05/188/
Luckin CoffeeAfter the clouds parted, the water flowed for ten years.
–Inscription
You have been on the road, met beauty, met a group of people who love beauty as much as you, and chatted with them. They are in full bloom, just like the summer they met, radiating the heat of life. Suddenly, a fallen leaf falls beside you, you caress the fallen leaf, but you open the photo album, the yellowed glimpse makes ripples in your heart lake, and the ripples stir up waves in your heart, and the waves become Bunches of blooming straw chrysanthemums play the silhouettes of the old days.
Glimpse
Time has blurred your past, but the fragments of the old time are always lingering in your heart. You remember the old-fashioned TV when you were a child, you remember the DVD player brought back by your father, you remember the old things at home… you remember your hometown when you were a child, You also remember the first time you came to a strange foreign country, and since then those old things have changed dramatically with the vicissitudes of time, making you forget the past.
But the hometown never forgets you, he calls out the fragments in your heart, he reminds you of your past
deductive self
For the first time, you recall your hometown, a noisy town hidden in the mountains, where the linden tree on the corner shelters the merchants, who work at sunrise and rest at sunset. This ancient Bodhi once listened to your lonely opera, and also listened to your sobbing. Every bit of your childhood, Bodhi will remember them. You have forgotten them, but every time you write down your own poems and songs, you will remember the distant past, there was a Bodhi tree listening to your lonely opera, so you write more boldly One sentence, you give those words to Bodhi in your hometown, it still listens to your lonely drama and your sobbing.
Like your hometown, you love the lonely song. In a noisy town hidden in the mountains, the only road is the only connection to the outside world. The simple villagers sing songs that belong to a small town here, and the town sings to the mountain stream, making the mountain stream full of vitality; The town sang to the stream, making the stream happier. But in the end, there are still no guests from other places willing to listen to its songs, and it performs its own lonely opera to the mountains and streams. Like it, you love the lonely opera in the small town of your hometown. This song is lonely and is the best self-interpretation. Whenever you perform yourself, you will always recall your hometown far away.
You shout: “My hometown, please call me by your name!”
flowing water
There is a bonfire in the distance, burning for the people who have been waiting for a long time. You leave your homeland and wander far away. I once thought of my hometown, Bodhi, and wild grass and flowers. Time is quiet and beautiful, but deep in the years is growth. You open the wandering books, caress the wandering old memories, they bring you warmth, they are like flowing water, heal your pain, when the group of flowers hit the old memories, they will flood tens of thousands four seasons.
Those overflowing flowers and old memories impact your heart. You once dreamed of walking the world with a sword, and you also dreamed of crossing mountains, rivers, lakes and seas; you once stopped for nameless life, and you once buried withered flowers;
In the drifting fragments, you continue to express your admiration for life. You once wrote about a sunflower standing strong after a storm, about an ordinary seed breaking through the soil or even a rock to germinate and grow, about a stray cat tenaciously living, and about Qu Yuan’s immortal legend in exchange for his life.
Youth chases time, life goes by with time, mother’s hair that should have been black at the temples began to turn gray, grandma began to become dull, brother also entered the palace of marriage, and your tears, which should have been immature, gradually faded away. Flickering across the mature cheeks, the old stories in those fragments become your years, no matter the wind and rain, you will always choose to catch up, howling to the storm, calling for the storm to come more violently, shattering the unbearable past , But when you muster up the courage to look back, you find that those gradually blurred fragments quietly let you grow.
Old memories are like a window, once opened it is hard to close. You are in the moonlight, listening to the sound of the ebb and flow of the tide, let them wash your heart, watching the moonlight shine on the harbor, they only leave the vastness, those years make you intoxicated, don’t think about it, you will never forget it, but you still want to voyage.
Gently shake off the dust of old memories, those light or heavy memories, walk out one after another in your heart, everything around you is quietly reborn, time will open a new chapter, you bid farewell to old memories , even if you keep asking Mingyue: “When will the old man meet again?” But you still set sail towards the distant place, because you know that the old man may meet again in that distant place.
You are me, and I am you.
This article is transferred from: https://fmcf.cc/2023/05/188/
This site is only for collection, and the copyright belongs to the original author.