Myth; legend

[ 1]

Which ones are fake?

Four seasons, rain and snow. The wrinkled sea is about to bloom. Is it a unicorn or a glutton, crossing the border and becoming a disdainful and messy cloud?

Don't mention which ones are fake. The legend in the dream desperately lists the beauty and illusion, so that even the sentences are out of touch. It's just that when I wake up during the day, I forget their specific meaning. It's like a line distributed on the palm of your hand, fragmented, and you can't find a simple and complete one. All gypsy fortune tellers will feel sorry for them.

I know which ones are fake. Then it will be a little sad to think about it during the day. Romantic pictographic fantasies are inexhaustible for girls. If there are thousands of handsome possibilities for the appearance of a prince, the sea that blooms forever in nothingness will always be the same. Magnificent folds reveal its ostentation and extravagance, like a flower, whose edge touches the universe.

I don't know what I witnessed, but I woke up with a lot on my mind. Including descriptions and statements, even parallelism and question marks, just like an ignorant soul finds a body and wants to keep all the last memories of past lives, but still can't think of a complete meaning. Only messy fragments flashed before my eyes. The four seasons are connected. Rain and snow, the world is as white as ever. The sea is wrinkled. Because of the wind. Kirin or gluttony, Kirin or gluttony, what does it matter?

Until I woke up. The sky was dark and white, and it blended with the dust last night. Mom and Dad's breathing quietly got into the door-like a string, with a light sound, a heavy sound and a light sound, and then stopped in a space. It was dad who rubbed his nose.

Those are not fake, I know. Turn over, a place in the bamboo mat has not been occupied by body temperature, and it is unable to resist the cold. There are footsteps on the stairs. Step on it during the day.

Half the world continues to be decadent after waking up. Bicycles weave space across the road, and buses get angry. Ballpoint pens are used to record the great changes that took place in BC. The fruit seller held back and said, "I'm unlucky to sell it to you." In the corner where the sun can't shine, there is a mother cat that is in labor. She squinted tightly and twitched occasionally.

The other half has a legend that will last forever. I don't need to argue whether the dream is true or not. Neither truth nor fallacy can define it. They multiply in the picture, from a small ink to a complete story. A unicorn sleeping in the valley, or a grumpy glutton, steps on silent soft footprints and smells animals. Subsequently, the plantain seeds paved the way, hyacinthus orientalis made a noise, and the huge sea opened pure blue petals.

That is the most beautiful and best blue I have ever seen.

When I close my eyes, I see so clearly.

[2]

When I opened my eyes, it was June 13, 2004, at 7 am. Climbing out of a dream is like walking out of a swimming pool, instantly feeling unprecedented gravity, heavy.

It's another concrete dream. Although it happens every day. Like a sign of youth. Similarly, there are inexplicable idleness, boredom of doing nothing, and carefully carved sadness.

Children are creating new sweets every day, but not all of them are sweet. Most of them are sour, not bitter. Like asking for it.

I have to admit that many things are self-inflicted. There is a big gap in sensitive times. If you run, smile and praise everything in the world every day, your nerves will become fake plastic texture. And it should be a slender and warm meridian, which communicates with all our senses like a bus network. Therefore, during that free time, I will become a villain who is busy with fantasy and addicted to sadness.

Fantasize about your own legend, and sadly capture the city without defenders day after day.

These very private things can't be told, they are all hidden in my heart. Riding in the dark makes them more vigorous. As time went on, they climbed the moss print on the south wall. Large areas of moist dark green remind us that there is always invisible sunshine. Don't look at the sun.

So I have never talked about these things with my friends. Once the secret is made public, it becomes an impartial joke. There is such a little monster in his body that he goes out to meet people for fear that his claws will hurt innocent people.

Chatting with friends on weekdays, only talking about the new scandal of idols, only talking about the breakfast porridge introduced by KFC, only talking about the shortcut to the cinema, only talking about the soy sauce stain on the teacher's shoulder, thinking that it is the result of useless new blue waves. In fact, we don't know whether Bilang can wash away all the stains as advertised. Just chatting, those ordinary topics can change their appearance again and again with the change of environment like chameleon.

Constant gossip, constant new products, and multi-angle stories constantly staged in the bright sunshine, the smell of washing powder on his body is real and warm, floating in a dispensable atmosphere.

Very figurative youth, projected in a little artificial and countless reality. Time is quietly revealed on it. I often look at his face from the same angle. Eyebrows, eyes and nose. The wall behind is pink and white. So people look bright and clean, just like images in a plane. Before developing, all colors are reversed on the negative. His hair turned white, his eyes were white, his lips were grayish green, and the world was dark.

My nerves are slowly and forcefully tightened here, from all the tiny branches to the heart. Like a moth trapped in a cocoon, it suddenly gained the power to break its shell.

Fly out and pick up the fire of extinction. Then he fell into the heavy sea and became a part of the legend.

Rough, soft, the ocean of accumulated moth sadness.

[3]

Somehow, it's easy for me to think of the sea. In the end, the land sank into the flood, and with the sea, it became the last container, containing all the legends.

The third eye of the world is closed blue in the universe.

Is it because the soul is soaked in the mother's sea for a long time before birth? What remains in the cerebral cortex is weak. Now it is a vague and ethereal picture. In the sky at night and the sea during the day, souls gather around to complete a complete life and emerge in the ocean of amniotic fluid. Like dimples. The whole world is smiling.

The myth of mother reached its climax here, and the Nu Wa she played created a beloved villain with water and clay sculpture. Then she will lose all her divine power and become a hard-working and ordinary woman, maintaining all the meaning of life, no matter how big or small. I'm in the big one, probably the biggest one.

In the evening, I saw my mother washing dishes around in the kitchen. She poured detergent into the water as she spoke. Foam, water, neat fingers, narrow sink.

She has long forgotten that in her ancient myth, bubbles, water and neat fingers all happened peacefully in a huge ocean. Then I'll remember it for her I see it blooming like a flower every night, gently wrinkled.

[4]

Legend.

I am an empty-handed person with Kirin and gluttony in my heart, holding the sea water all over the world.

These are all true.

Life in summer

Shrinking my life to the final destination is a green summer.

I woke up after the typhoon warning was pulled. When I opened my eyes, I saw the sky, washed away by the rainstorm, and patches like cotton wool were exposed in the broken places. People's feet are full of sunburned plain clothes, but they dare not go in only in the corner.

In summer, I threw out the bugs in my slippers and bought a lot of grapes from Fujian South Road to Renmin Road Market. On the way back, there will be sprinklers whining and buses chugging by.

After spending so much time on exams and copying homework for impulsive youth, the long vacation of more than 70 days has become extremely inflated in summer. Sometimes it leaks, and people on the road are caught in the sudden heavy rain. A row of deformed shoes appeared under the eaves of that cloth shop, which made me laugh.

After that summer, people remembered the cartoon shown on TV, which was called "Slam Dunk Master". The newspaper said that the ratings even exceeded the shocking surprises in the news. When I went upstairs, the boys of the same age downstairs bought soy sauce and came back. Seeing his curly hair and long shadow when I turned the corner made me suddenly shy. I didn't think I should wear casual pajamas.

At 6 o'clock, the opening song of "Slam Dunk Master" was played at his home and mine at the same time. I put my ear to the floor and vaguely heard him talking to his mother. Eating too many grapes always makes me want to rush out of my throat. Sitting on a slightly hot wooden stool, you can see the lonely clouds and tireless kitchen smoke in summer from the skylight, flying proudly.

In this way, I watched the whole cartoon this summer, ate countless fruits, and said forty or fifty sentences to the boy downstairs, thinking that I liked him.

Unrequited love is as complete and tenacious as life. After peeling off the epidermis, it reveals the inner layer that will soon dry up. In the idle days when we sleep in any position and don't have nightmares, we live with dignity and don't have to worry that the cock of desire will cry for reality at the top of the fairy tale. Just when I cherish this tireless gray-blue midfield, the grapes have left the stage and the animation has not been broadcast again. Someone moved, and the window across the river was open. But it is this full and green life that makes me safely recall the true and beautiful voice five years ago in a deeper season. He called my name and used a few short seconds in summer to make everything too late to mature.

Enlarging my life to the last edge is a string of joy like grapes, shouting and cursing one by one, resisting the coming autumn.

Time machine

Sometimes I feel that maybe it is because of the long wires overhead that the distance between me and the sky has been narrowed. It seems that you can touch tomorrow with your hands.

When I was a child, the most magnificent project was to choose the book cover for each new textbook. I will be excited about this all day, sitting on the ground cutting last year's calendar, and shyly turning over the female model's chest and wrapping it inside. Then I will wait for my father to come back and write "Chinese" and "Mathematics" in every book I give. My mother's handwriting is not as good as my father's, so I don't want her to write.

When I was a child, I chased boys. When he was kneeling on the window to jump in, I tried to close the window and his little finger was smashed. The teacher complained directly to my mother's office, and my mother almost scolded me to death. From then on, I knew that the little finger was something that would be crushed. Boys are useless.

When I was a child, I learned to ride a bike and killed a little hen. In fact, when it and I scared each other, the bike fell to the ground, and I trampled it half to death with one foot. Later, dad asked the family to buy the chicken and eat it. It's very kind of dad, but I dare not eat that chicken.

When I was a child, I sat in the penultimate row. My eyesight was good enough to see a yellow caterpillar on Metasequoia glyptostroboides outside the classroom. After class, I went to confirm with my classmates that it was a small piece of rag. But why is there cloth there? Maybe it's caterpillar clothes.

When I was a child, because my parents often traveled together, life at home was like Cleopatra. Although there is no Toy Boy, as a primary school student, I can watch TV at home 12, and even read while eating in bed. Once, my mother came back and found that I hadn't cleaned up the biscuit crumbs, simulated the state of my living alone, and then scolded me. What saddens me most is that they don't believe my excuse and say I didn't do it.

I had many cats when I was a child, and my favorite was a yellow and white cat. Every morning at 6 o'clock, I jump on the bed to wake me up, and then I hug it and kiss its mouth. Then one day I found out that this guy ate a mouse. It makes me sick to think of it ... but I still like it, but it just disappeared one day. When I came home to tell my parents about this guy in May last year, they actually laughed and said that my dad rode it for two hours and threw it in a distant park. Adults can treat a cruel thing as a joke. And at least I found that I still maintained my hatred for children as I did ten years ago.

When I was a child, I was afraid for a long time because of the extremely short lifeline. I used a ballpoint pen to draw all the way to my wrist and insisted on not washing my hands. I am not sure whether this success is successful or not. I have long been afraid of being an old woman. ...

My body was folded and opened. From the first 64 to 32 to 16, I came into contact with more and more worlds, but finally I stayed away from a pool of soy sauce stains that had yellowed when I was a child. It is difficult to clean, but it is too easy to fade and deteriorate. When I step by step towards the future of that short-lived old woman, I occasionally feel that I am still behind when I was a child. Just like the wires overhead narrowed the sky, I still remember it for a long time.

Is the teacher who used to spit in my face still there?

Jing M.Guo:

Bound by the night

0 1

When the sun rises in the east, the mist is scattered around by the light, and the quiet streets begin to be filled with noisy people. Not far away, the man in the shop lifted the lid that was tumbling on the water and poured the first bowl of Lamian Noodles in the morning into the water.

The security guard downstairs wears clean uniforms and says good morning to everyone.

The sound of running water blew the whistle. Horn sound. The mother's voice for the third time to wake the child in bed.

A slowly waking world.

02

There was a time when I was so busy at work that I almost spent the whole day, so I had to stay up all the manuscripts and novels when I got home at night. It started at 1: 00 a.m., then turned into 2: 03 a.m., and finally evolved into the skylight that has been completely lit in winter (6: 30? ), wrapped in a quilt and fell asleep.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when I woke up.

Brush your teeth, take a shower and grab something to eat from the refrigerator.

Then go to work in the company.

The security guard in the lobby of the office building sometimes says good afternoon to me.

It didn't take long to sit down and turn on the computer, and the people in the company left work one after another. They said to me, Xiao Si, I'll go first.

Soon, there will be only myself in the company, or one or two people who also need to work overtime.

Then it slowly disappeared into the night.

It is not accurate to say that it is slow.

It should be said, "and then it suddenly became dark."

03

I want to end this upside-down life, so I go to bed early. But I can't sleep. After a while, I got up and read.

A small window is exposed from the curtain that is not tightly pulled, and there are sporadic lights that are not extinguished.

In the silent night, the sound of turning pages is particularly clear.

After reading the book at two o'clock, I choked on the last sentence of the protagonist. "So, I'll go first?" Touched the mood. Get up, put on a sweater, turn on the TV and get ready to play WII for a while. After playing for a while, I lost interest and turned on the shower head to take a bath. Then I found that the water heater could not ignite without a battery.

So I put on my pants, coat, keys and went out to buy batteries.

On such a long night, everything seems particularly grand. We need to be alone for so long. A person turns on the air conditioner because of the cold, sighs after reading a book, changes the TV channel from 1 to 39, watches almost all the black and white headshots on MSN, wraps up his coat and goes out to buy batteries.

Each of us has imagined how to spend too long.

Whether to travel to Europe or stay at home and read the books piled on the shelf.

These hours seem to be a whole century apart, and the dust all over the sky gently fell to the ground before it could fly to us. It has become a galaxy, and dust floats in our distance.

Let's walk slowly and grow old.

04

In our long youth, our world has been immersed in such a sunny day.

We woke up in the gray-blue morning, everyone was crowded and sleepy, picked up toothbrushes and cups and walked to the water room at the end of the dormitory road. The sound of running water washed the sky bright, wiped off the toothpaste foam at the corners of the mouth and raised his head. The sparrows on the branches outside the window have been clearly seen.

The dormitory administrator will kick everyone out of the dormitory before 7 o'clock and go to the classroom to study early. Everyone packed their schoolbags, stuffed the unfinished steamed bread or bread into plastic bags, and then started the day's homework with everyone.

Morning, noon, afternoon and evening.

The chalk characters on the blackboard are changed from one edition to another. The person who didn't have time to copy sighed, threw the pen on the table, crouched down, buried his face in his arms, and his shoulders twitched slightly, wondering if there were any tears.

We stay away from darkness, we stay away from midnight.

Even cheap instant coffee can't keep us going until late at night. There is always an overwhelming sense of fatigue, which makes us unwilling to leave the test paper and pour it into the warm bed.

We seem to be wrapped in a transparent medium, living our young youth simply and confusedly.

We slept quietly in the dark.

The world is far from us. The damage is far away from us.

05

Downstairs in Rosenley, there are only two batteries left in the No.1 battery we need. I need four batteries. My kind aunt advised me not to buy it, but to go to other convenience stores to buy four batteries of the same brand, otherwise the effect of mixing batteries of different brands is not good.

06

When did you start to feel that life is infinitely long, but you can't stand the consumption?

07

If you go back-

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. In an infinitely beautiful age, time seems to be sprinkled with bright powder, which is dazzling no matter where it is spread. Life was infinitely lengthened in those three years, and it passed by in a time that could never be returned.

If we look at it now, the kind of fatigue dragged down by papers and the heart stirred by achievements will never be considered as the dark part of life. Compared with what we are facing, they are clean and transparent.

Although at our age, they are considered to be the heaviest topics in life.

I always had this idea when I was young, and then I kept growing, growing and laughing beyond recognition.

Countless dreams of going back to the past. Countless times I dreamed of sitting on campus for exams.

The sunshine outside the window is bright and dazzling, slanting on the smooth desktop, reflecting golden fragments.

Someone in the back of the classroom reflected the light spot on the back of the teacher's head with a mirror, and there was a whisper of laughter in the classroom. It itches to press it in the throat.

On the empty playground, the scorching sun stirs the clouds all over the sky, recording the young people, their young faces, their healthy lives, and the beauty that they will stumble in the years to come.

So sadness turned into an afternoon thunderstorm.

There are boys practicing shooting on the wet basketball court.

Not far from the barbed wire, the girl is holding the mineral water bottle in her hand.

If we look back at the past, those beautiful, warm, kind and cherished pasts are all beautiful, but at the present temperature, they are fragile and "beautiful" because they know that they will no longer exist in the coming storm, so they will wet their eyes.

It's like a world slowly infiltrated by jet-black darkness after sunset in the evening.

Being shrouded, the temperature slowly disappears.

08

And night has its own way of writing because of their differences.

When our youth is placed in the high ivory tower, we hide in the warm bed and consume the nutrients that youth gives us. The night can't invade, and it is isolated from the cold by the warmth of the bed.

Countless stories we have read under the flashlight. The obscurity of youth, or the sadness of love, seeps into our hearts bit by bit.

And when the beautiful years passed, the eggshell was gently broken by a hand beside the bowl, and the whole package was torn apart by a great force, we began to get used to the characteristics of darkness, those free darkness and continuous cold. They float in the air, and when they find us vulnerable, they quietly penetrate into the open pores.

People hurried in the street with cold faces, leaving lonely shadows on the earth, dead leaves falling from phoenix trees and white fog floating close to the ground at night.

Only traffic lights on empty streets frequently change color at intersections where there are no vehicles and pedestrians.

09

I walked two blocks and bought the battery I wanted in Haode.

When I walked out of the door, the electronic sensor made a tinkling sound, and then the dull electronic voice said, "Welcome to visit next time." .

On the way back, I saw the hostess who set up the fruit stand was about to pull down the shutter door. When she saw me, she nodded slightly to me. Then he turned and closed the door. She raised her hand and put out the yellow light bulb overhead, so a short road suddenly became dark.

Only the middle-aged man in front of the stove squinted and listened to the songs on the radio. Behind him are empty plastic tables and seats. Only the crackle of the fire echoed with the boiling water in the pot.

I didn't pass by their lives.

They just saw their own half-warm and half-cold existence at the boundary of the night.

The final return of the night

0 1 pill

When I catch a cold, I feel that the whole weight of Shanghai is on me. I have a headache like I'm about to explode. I go to work with such a head like a time bomb every day. I often feel that there is a countdown timer in my body, ticking away, and then the clockwork is getting tighter and tighter, and I don't know when it suddenly exploded.

When I catch a cold, I feel that all the tap water pipes in Shanghai are plugged into my body, and then someone opens them, and my nose and tears can't stop. I feel like a mobile leaky pipe system, coming and going in the office building, and everyone who sees me shows surprised expressions.

And these are all controllable. After I swallowed the remarkable two-color pill repeatedly mentioned in the advertisement, the whole world seemed to recover at once. Only when you take medicine will you feel sleepy, so walking is like walking on cotton.

But when can we invent a pill that can control our emotions? I snuggled up on the sofa, staring blankly with a steaming cup. If one day, I can swallow a pill of "not thinking about you" in a boring party without you; If one day, I can swallow a "don't cry" pill when I am sad; If one day, after you leave me, I can swallow a "forget you" pill; If one day, like all the lame series, I get hit by a car, I will definitely be awake in my head.

When you are asleep, swallow a "remember you" pill, so that when I wake up, I won't tell you the old-fashioned "who are you" conversation on TV in tears at the bedside.

Do you have such pills? I really want to call Doraemon.

02 sadness and sadness

I don't know whether to translate the words sadness and sadness into sadness in translation.

There are always such exclamations in Chinese. Just like once happiness and joy. Are they all happy?

Are happy people necessarily happy people?

Which is more pitiful, a sad person or a sad person?

When you were twelve years old, you fished out translucent fish from the river. You put them in a big bowl, and the next day they all died. You cried when mom poured the fish into the toilet. Are you sad or sad?

At the age of fourteen, you began to notice a boy with dark hair, and his voice became a little funny and hoarse during adolescence. But when he runs and shoots, you will still think he is so handsome. You saw him go home with a girl that day, and he bought her popsicles to eat. You walked two blocks behind them and found yourself lost. Were you sad?

Seventeen-year-old, you walked out of school on a lonely afternoon, and the sunset just set slowly in front of you, and the light pulled out a more lonely shadow behind you. You lower your head. At that moment, the empty campus made you feel sad, or sad?

Nineteen years old, bid farewell to youth. It seems that if you go one more time unit, you can no longer call yourself a teenager. What did you wish for the flickering candle? If that wish doesn't come true from sixteen to nineteen, will it be too late before twenty? You listen to the countdown of time, and your eyes slowly turn red. Is it sad?

Twenty-four years old, thinking of the animal year for the first time. I completely forgot what the last animal year was like. Now you yell at me when your mother gives you red underwear. But when there is no one around, I wonder if I should buy one. There are invitations from classmates on the table, red cardboard and gold words. Now you are still shopping alone, drinking tea alone and watching TV alone. What's your mood now?

03 evening self-study

This kind of night party starts from grade three.

On the first day, you were all so excited that you even quietly put snacks and drinks in your schoolbags. I feel that I am still studying after dark, which is very cool.

The incandescent lamp above your head flashes and lights up. Looking out of the window, I found it was dark, leaving only a circle of street lamps shining on the campus.

You think this feeling is really good.

But then slowly, it consumed time and enthusiasm.

The rest is the smell of tired coffee and the noise of chalk rubbing on the blackboard. The smell of ink in the test paper floated slowly and heavily in the air. You open the window and close it later. The wind outside is still too cold.

You put down your pen and exercise your wrist. The history test paper in front of me has been filled with a whole page. The fountain pen in my hand was bought from the small shop at the school gate yesterday, and now I have used up one third of the ink. There was just Jay Chou's Still Fan Texi in the shop yesterday. You stood in front of the poster for a while, then walked away with a smile.

You look up at the bottomless night outside the window. Camphor tree after tree, with lush leaves filled all the gaps in the sky. The night devoured the light wantonly.

Some green that will never disappear. Only the wind blowing between the treetops, far away and sharp, sounded in the deepest part of the campus. Shashasha. In fact, it is no different from the quiet writing sound in the classroom. You raised your hand and rubbed your sour eyes, and found that your hand was wet with water. You sniffled and turned over the history paper.

To a new side. And the boy from the sports department of Grade One Senior High School under the street lamp didn't come to play ball tonight.

As soon as the bell rang, there was an echo in the campus. The trees were blown by the wind, and their shadows rolled in the direction of the dormitory in the dark. You clean up the unfinished exercises and a thick reference book by yourself. You walk out of the teaching building with your schoolbag on your back. The road from the classroom to the dormitory is horribly quiet. Street lamps cast dim light high. There are two girls walking in front, whispering to each other. There are three boys walking behind, with balls under their feet. Later, everyone walked back, and you slowly stopped on this road with tall camphor trees on both sides. You lift it.

Boss, the street lamp flashed at that moment. It suddenly occurred to you that three years have passed since such a day. Since the third grade, until now. A thousand nights have passed. And the rest of the dozens of nights, will be like this.

In the past, you held the book tightly in your hand and heard all kinds of voices in the empty campus. They have appeared before, and they will surely disappear one day.

The sound swallowed up by 1095 nights rustles at the end of the night.