Walking and stopping with time

Walking and stopping with time

Fleas

A lonely white rabbit, walking around and looking around; the clothes are not as good as new, and the people are not as good as before.

The air is dull and a bit turbid, and you can hear the murmur of people around you when you close your eyes. The sky is as clear and distant as ever, as bright as a child's clean eyes. There are ivy hanging down on the balcony opposite, which is rich and lush; sometimes it seems that the entire scene is filled with emeralds; the dragonfly can no longer be seen gliding rapidly in the sky; the wind blows without making a sound.

I really like a quiet time when I don’t have to do anything and just let myself go. You can slowly renovate the magazines you bought, or look at each item carefully on the shelves; the bronze metal elephant, the Eiffel model that you can hold in your hand, or a small pot of dark green potted plants... I will try my best. You can squander this time as much as you want, and the time can flow as you please.

Time is an immeasurable thing. It walks alone and never stops for someone. Many times we think that we will never be separated, and that we will still sit cross-legged on the sofa in the far, far future, laughing loudly and grabbing each other's snacks; until we understand that we can no longer walk side by side, and can no longer lie on our sides. As we whispered and passed notes on the table, we realized that we had already drifted apart in an unknown amount of time. This torrent of time cannot allow anyone to pay any tribute.

I can still look through our old photos and pick one as your caller ID photo in my phone book. I carelessly placed those group photos at the bottom of the box, and the yellow tube was filled with soft dust. Many faces have become distant and unfamiliar, as if they are separated by clouds and mist, friendly but invisible. When I forget my name, I look at the dense roster at the bottom, trying to pull back those withered memories from this disaster. I still remember a lot. After washing your hair, your long hair was as moist and fragrant as seaweed; you stood at the teacher's door with a grin on your face and waved to me; you whispered reminders behind me when I couldn't recite the English text; we were crowded together under an umbrella. Laughing while treading water; the songs we sang softly in physical education class; the dim lights when we hid under the covers flipping through magazines in the middle of the night... Those confused but happy times flowed through my life like a river. A silent stage farce. It was like I was drifting alone in the deserted sea. When I looked back, I was horrified to find that the beauty I had worked so hard for was just a passing by the window. The depression that hides the empty beam cannot bear too much fantasy.

The roots of the pothos plant at home began to rot due to lack of sunlight over time.

I bumped into a strange band while wandering around the Internet. The Shadow Band has an album called A Pound of Ideals, and the first song I listened to was "Rotten". The prelude is a rich male voice, giving a confused and ethereal feeling. Temperate perversity; screaming and rocking, shouting as if the world was rotting away. It makes people feel weird but empathetic. I didn't have the courage to listen anymore; it made me feel uncomfortable, like I was dying. I fell in love with this band instantly, with their cruel and lengthy sound. I could feel the anger and rough emotions, and tears fell down heavily as I listened; there was a burning feeling of anxiety running down my cheeks.

The breath of time passed me by.

Their hair fell off/

Their skin peeled off/

In the silent town/

Balls of flying chaos/

The final whisper was like a desperate whisper. I unplugged my headphones and drank myself a large glass of ice water.

All the tracks on the album make me feel the pain left by this band from the last century. They no longer sing, those dreams that have accumulated in the basement for many years. It spins above the vacuum and is immediately drained of water and falls to the ground; it cannot be stopped.

Thank you for your time, Xiaomao and Beichuan. I can't sleep this night.

Time is never close to the soul and flows slowly over the city.

More and more, I find that I like to shoot the sky and the clouds. This does not require good technology or Madou, as long as the pixels are high. When you look up, your mood will become very good, and no matter what you look at, you will never feel so clean. The calm clouds were rolling in the distance and the wind was surging, still at the moment of leaping, tilting slowly to one side of the sky. As long as you look up, you will feel at ease. The sky is wide enough to swallow up all the sharp and dirty things in the clouds.

We went to a milk tea shop that we have always wanted to go to for ice cream.

There were not many people that day and it was very quiet. The two girls opposite were laughing and feeding each other smoothies. I looked at the no-smoking sign on the wall and smiled; I found the guestbook at table 6, turned to the blank page and left a message for myself, and drew a smile with the corners of my mouth raised a bit exaggeratedly.

Suddenly, the days were stretched by time, so quiet that only the chirping of insects remained.

Later, I plundered all the money I had at Xinhua Bookstore and bought a children's picture book. The illustrator is not very famous, but the sloppy style of painting made me fall in love with it at first sight. The cover shows a big red strawberry, and a little king wearing a crown stands on tiptoes and reaches out to touch the leaves above his head. The cover is hard and large, and it feels solid and heavy when held against your chest. I finished reading the fairy tale about the pomegranate tree very quickly. My younger brother chased me and asked me to tell him. He asked me what war meant and why the king was moved to tears. I smiled and touched his head, put the book in the bookcase and promised to continue talking tomorrow. He cried and fussed, and soon fell asleep amid his grandma's peaceful stories. I asked him later and all he remembered was the king's big red fluffy robe.

Sure enough, time can make people forget many things.

I found photos and videos that I had copied on my computer, and sorted out a lot of things in bits and pieces.

No matter what, I don’t think our group of people will be able to disperse. Most of the photos I keep were taken when they were laughing with me and running wildly in the square. In PE class, we secretly went around the playground to look for unripe sour fruits under each purple-leaf plum tree. We ran along the wall over and over again, chasing the tricycle selling steamed buns outside, and squeezed into the English teacher's car to let her take us home. Every time I turn the camera on them, they always cover their faces and run away. After a while, they get used to it. They carelessly act like I don't exist, eating and screaming unladylikely in front of the camera. They clamored to put me in a lunatic asylum. Without you I wouldn't know how to walk or tell my silly jokes.

The sky in the distance outside the window is pale gray, and the gloom just now has gradually dissipated. The sea of ??clouds in the dusk gradually unfolded, and the stone forests in the distance were still immersed in the boring air of this city.

Maybe that’s it, we always have to learn to grow up and be strong enough to overcome separation.

My aunt has always fantasized about wearing a flowing long skirt and being able to navigate the transition between aging and haggard like she did when she was young; she pulled up her skirt and laughed in front of the mirror, looking like a girl who got candy. . Grandma became very wordy, her eyes were always blurry when talking; she would giggle like a child when the plug of the vacuum cleaner came off. The cousin who used to blow bubbles and wear fluorescent bracelets side by side has become slim with shoulders, slender figure, long shawl hair and delicate facial features, and looks like she can’t wait to grow up.

It turns out that time has walked so far away from the horizon without realizing it.

I think I can stop and wait for some unknown things calmly, walking too fast for people to see me clearly.