The withering hope is foggy in the west wind and bleak. Is this season when everything is bleak called winter? Going to work after work, eating and sleeping, are these three-point-one days called life? I forget when I saw the morning sun, whether I ever had a sunset glow in any night, and even after many days of hope and disappointment, I no longer expect to wake up tomorrow morning with the whiteness of that place. Everything is like yesterday, and everything is endless boredom and indifference. A pile of books that can be read or not, some words that can be written or not, and an invisible heart, everything is the same, even the dreaming scene is not much new, and I don't even bother to wake up and remember. I haven't walked a hundred paces after dinner for many days, as if I couldn't tell what it was for. I haven't watched a TV series with my wife seriously for a long time, and I always feel that the emotions are all affected by the directors. Even the "reader" magazine that I have been buying is missing many issues. Incoherence means incoherence, so no one should punish you for it? ! If you remember something you have to do, it is to go home at the weekend, which is of course where my mother is. The road is still indifferent, and even the fields that have been fascinated are yellow and withered. On the land without crops, I don't know when a piece of wild wormwood grew. Pieces of ashes that have been burned intermittently show patches of bald sores under the west wind. I really doubt that such a world can usher in a spring of flowers. Passing a flower and bird market. Flowers are long gone. After all, no other flowers can smile in the open air in such weather except Dongmei. And the so-called birds, that is, a few blackbirds in several cages are hoarse. I feel sorry for them: no matter how touching you sing, the call through the cage will not make the host feel romantic and let the lovers meet for a short time. Even if your singing becomes the most miserable cry in the world, no host will be kind enough to forget the expenses and let you go back to the mountains. Swallows have long since disappeared, and pigeons have also gone into hiding. The whole world has withered in this season, except for a few creatures in cages with bird names and few birds. Further ahead is a free market, mostly stalls selling vegetables. In this modern city, which has been cleaned up by modern standards everywhere, there is still such a "free" world. Perhaps these ordinary people should pay a serious homage to the great city managers. On a tricycle, there is tofu just cooked by one side, and beside the tricycle is an old man with a wrinkled face. Say hello. Tofu is one and a half kilos. The old man did it quickly. At the same time, he said with a smile, everything is going up in price now, and this tofu has doubled according to the original 80 cents. Maybe this year's * * * work report also mentioned this achievement. When he returned to pick up the money, the old man still remembered to put on a plastic bag and said that city people pay attention to hygiene. In fact, it is unsanitary to hold it with your hands, that is, you don't know what sundries are put in the tofu, but it is unconscionable to do that, for fear of not sleeping well at night. Looking at the cracked hands and trembling body of the old man, I know that this is a good man with a conscience, and it is not easy for people to earn some money. Two two or three-year-old boys play glass balls on the ground, aiming at them on their knees for a while, and trying hard in the soil for a while. I stopped and watched for a while, and felt that it was no different from my childhood play, but the owner changed. A boy looked up at me, without any surprise, and continued his game. In their eyes, the cold and withering in front of them probably don't exist at all, and the whole world is just a lively battle. After passing a crossroads in the market, there are small wooden signs inserted in the cracks of the sidewalk brick, which read "Tile, brush, and do all the civil works". Although the words are not beautiful, the meaning is very clear. A few people squatting beside the sign are obviously the owners of the sign, and the white dots are more clear than any letter of introduction. Although he is also dressed in thin clothes, he is playing a game of walking around the state with sticks and stones, and he is also very careful, and he has no fear of being dependent on others. Riding on the road, I suddenly found a few fresh leaves on the bleak poplar branches on the roadside. Approached, shout, the leaves disappeared, but it turned out to be a group of sparrows foraging. It is in response to the poem "Birds are leaves of trees". I can't remember the whole poem, but now this group of sparrows must be more lively and smart than that poem. It seems that the sound of shouting here has already shown that this withering has not been completely. Not only the winter in front of me, but also my numb heart. Looking at the sky again, I don't know when the gray iron curtain cracked a gap and a few pure white clouds floated on a blue background. The clouds are floating out, and maybe we can see the sunset before sunset soon. The speed of cycling has increased. Crossing the stream in spring, the warmth in summer and the harvest in autumn, this gray-yellow winter should not stop breathing or lose life. In this dying of everything, it has actually been ringing in the footsteps of approaching in the coming year. In this fading, the bud of memory is still gestating life, and the missing rose will blossom with it, and the soft mind will have a soil to deliver. As long as a person's heart is still beating, he will find a piece of land of his own, and when the humid east wind blows, a beautiful flower will bloom. Leaves will wither, life will wither, beauty will wither, days will wither, but soil will never wither. The soil where the leaves are buried may rot, but when bloom is warm in spring, a dense forest will grow in the decayed soil. It is a group of newer life, a better beauty, and an eternity that will not wither. Cherish every day, keep a humble hope, and flower of life will bloom after withering! Life always faces the challenge of desperation. If you live, you have to fight with life. The significance of success lies in the reversal of despair to hope. In a desperate situation, it is just yourself who can save yourself. There was once an admirable American mountaineer. When climbing Mont Blanc alone, his right hand was pinned down by falling rocks. Facing the desperate situation, he resolutely cut off his right hand and went down the mountain for help. When cornered, waiting may be an unwise choice. Often, after being exhausted by cornered, you can only do nothing. Learn to rely on yourself when you are desperate, and look for hope by yourself, just like a donkey falling into a dry well. The condition of life's fighting is to prove yourself by yourself, because you are the only guide out of the corner! Remember Santiago written by Hemingway in The Old Man and the Sea. The old fisherman was lonely, unlucky, poor and old, but he said, "A man is not born to be defeated." His words are simple but full of strength, and his eyes are "as blue as the sea, happy and not depressed". That is, he didn't catch a fish for 84 days in a row, and even the only boy who accompanied him left him. No one believed that the old man would gain anything again. But he's at sea again, and he's going out of this desperate situation on his own. He found the big fish, but one person could not catch it completely. He endured hunger and pain and tried his best to fight marlins and sharks. He wants to prove himself with himself, but also to find the hope of life with his own efforts. Although Santiago finally brought back only a fish skeleton, he proved himself and fought tenaciously with the difficulties of life to get him out of the corner. His optimism, self-confidence, courage and tenacity are a perfect release when he is in a desperate situation, so he still issued the oath of "Fish, I will stay with you until I die". The biggest shock of Santiago's literary image to readers lies in his fighting spirit when facing the desperate situation. The taste of life's fighting lies in the potential fighting spirit when facing the seemingly insurmountable desperate situation! Some people say that the terrible despair is that it erodes hope, and the once vivid hope becomes shadowy in the shadow of despair. The great spirit of mankind is the driving force to guide us out of hardship, but this spirit comes from those desperate situations that seem to be mountains and rivers. Romain rolland said: "I will dare to face up to the pain and respect it! Joy is worthy of praise, so is pain! They are the great soul of training human beings. " Despair is the source of hope. Michelangelo, Beethoven and Tolstoy in Who's Who are all brave men who dare to fight with life. Michelangelo's hardship and despair inspired his art, Beethoven's ill-fated fate created his Destiny, and Tolstoy's anxiety about life gave birth to Anna Karenina. On the road of art, they all met with the torture of desperation, but desperation has become a great force in their artistic life, making their faith in life and art so amazing. The hope of fighting with life is seized in desperation! The taste of life lies in the struggle with despair, and never give up in the face of despair. This is the indomitable great spirit of mankind. More importantly, despair creates hope, which leads us to higher achievements and turns us into real gladiators in life!