Appreciation of Wang's Prose Snow Hidden in Time

The season of snow has just arrived, and the color of vegetation begins to fade. Subtract red, subtract green, subtract gorgeous brilliance, subtract vivid richness, and then leave gray and white. The sky and the four fields seem to be adding up, empty and vast, and the line of sight in midsummer can be removed from the shadows, so as to reach further places.

I started to lose weight during the day, and I was a little plump at night.

Wind, rain and frost appear alternately or together.

All people are waiting for a huge snow, like a pure and beautiful fairy tale.

It's actually just a fairy tale. Snow, as a prince and princess, came to a happy ending forever, hiding the busy and tired reality under the plain white clothes.

Time, on the other hand, will brutally unveil the veil and restore the truth. It will even eliminate the warmth of people standing together for a short time to watch a snow. A moment ago, their eyes were shining, they were all smiles, and they turned around and went their separate ways.

You naively think that snow is a lie that the season scatters on the earth. Although short-lived, you still love this short-lived beauty wholeheartedly.

When I looked at the smile on your lips, I smiled. Snow is my medicine for winter, and it is the medicine for curing my soul. Take a pill, read a fairy tale and listen to a lie. Extremely cold, extremely short, enough to resist the monotony of a long season and eliminate my deep desire. It's cold and warm.

two

It's late at night and the snow is still there. Under the pull of the wind, the snow is aimless, like taking a leisurely walk in the empty air.

I leaned against the balcony, opened the window, smiled foolishly and didn't want to sleep. The forecast says the snow will stop after the third night. Mindful of the separation when I wake up, I feel that falling asleep is a kind of pain without feeling.

There are several girls wrapped in scarves and hats on the snowy road downstairs. The face of youth is like sparkling snowflakes, and the eyes unfamiliar with the world are brighter by the night snow. Laughter is ringing, snowballs are scattered, and a series of shallow and messy footprints are scattered. ...

This snow is one of their fairy tales, no matter how long it can stay.

Snow dances with the wind. I just want to be an affectionate and greedy fool, and I want to keep this mighty snow and every piece of snow that has been here.

Time flies, as short as a snow. Truth and nothingness, eternity and instant, hoary head and lies, a series of contradictory propositions, just like fate without solution.

Snow is hidden in time, illusory, even if I have no sleep tonight, even if I try my best to meet everything, I still keep saying goodbye.

I know, tomorrow morning, maybe I won't find the snow I saw tonight. Where are they hiding? Those falling snow in the dark, such as our youth vows and vows, are lost in the boundless darkness.

Tonight's time, where to hide?

three

Open and sparse fields are the best stage for snow, including poplars, wheat fields, weeds, reeds and shady banks. Snow can freely expand its imagination and sketch any beautiful picture. Low roof tiles, small yard, chicken shed, woodpile, and a road to the outside. The snow stopped, and someone swept a shallow and narrow path. The thin ripples of the broom looked like the figure of snow spinning. Some houses and courtyards have been left unattended for a long time, so with the passage of time, snow will always exist.

I can't calculate the time when snow is hidden in the city, or the time when the city leaves a snow. In other words, in a city with high-rise buildings, snow is a waste, which is incompatible with hard reinforced concrete. No matter how long it snows in the city, it is an unnecessary blank. There is no way to go in the city. How to clean, how to sprinkle salt, and how not to affect tomorrow's trip exist in every calculation.

I walked from the countryside to the city, from the fairyland like a fairy tale to the plain reality, and to the empty streets. It was only a short period of time. All the streets were clean overnight, only footprints soaked by water, and only leaves still had the shadow of snow. They are so anxious that they can't wait to get rid of the snow on the leaves.

Children who grow up in the city don't have Snow White's fairy tales, and they don't believe in fairy tales.

Snow hidden in time falls in the city, tightened by clockwork, crushed by wheels and driven away by an impenetrable heart.

Watching snow make tea is a lie and joke in the city. They cheat others in the circle of friends and themselves in the empty street.

Snow and poetry have long been the chicken ribs of this city.

four

Cold is the blood of snow and the powerful heartbeat of snow; Warmth is the old enemy of snow, and it is a disaster that snow can't escape.

When the disaster begins, the countryside is no exception. The snow began to evacuate in a vast and collective way, and the speed was unpredictable. Road and road, restore the original appearance. Trees bid farewell to silver dreams, and the branches are still thin.

Cedar, snow bamboo and Xue Mei, which are extremely beautiful plants in the snow, are also bidding farewell to a gorgeous costume party bit by bit.

Xue Mei's branches, dripping snowflakes, like tears in the corner of my eyes, told me not to give up.

Snow bamboo, the body bent by snow began to straighten, one white bun was taken off, and the roots of bamboo still left traces of snow.

Snow hidden in time, like time, has gone without a trace.

Maybe a poem, a sentence, a picture was born in the snow.

five

In my eyes, there stood a figure leaning to the ground.

Nineteen-year-old, sophomore winter vacation, my mother and I stood on the street in my hometown selling cabbage. Cabbage covered half an acre of land and was buried in the snow. Mother pulled the snow out little by little and put it on the wooden cart to cover the quilt.

It was particularly cold that winter. One snow hasn't gone yet, and another snow has come up again. The road is pressed like transparent glass, three steps and one slip. My mother and I stood on the thick ice, eagerly waiting for the buyer to take those cabbages home one by one.

That year's cabbage was one yuan 15 Jin. The snow is ten degrees below zero.

We are as cold as cabbage, shivering and holding an expectation as beautiful as snow. What is snow? This is not a fairy tale. That is, cabbage is expensive, and there are more buyers, and fewer people come to collect debts at home.

One cabbage leaf after another was abandoned. They are as numb as my hands, feet and heart. I looked at my mother as if she never knew whether she was cold or tired.

Mother has been taking care of these cabbages from autumn to winter.

Cabbage hides the cost of Chinese New Year, the tuition of our brothers and sisters. The smell of hot food floating in the street has never been close to mom.

However, it is already so cold in winter, but cabbage is as cheap as snow everywhere.

Car after car of cabbages, trip after trip of snow trails, that winter frozen like cabbage, frozen in my mother's hair. That year, a thick layer of snow fell on her head.

Twenty years later, the snow on my mother's head was dense and there was no exposed moss.

Twenty years later, the streets of a foreign land, dialects that can never be integrated, began to snow on my head.

Time will never solve it.

Mother's figure is still prone to the earth, but that kind of heavy snow has become a luxury in the winter in the north.

six

I was forced to accept my farewell on a snowy day.

A person suddenly left in a heavy snow and went to sleep peacefully. The snow is so heavy, so cold and the world is so pale.

At that time, the snow filled my eyes, and the white world at that time was full of despair of bone erosion.

A charred willow was planted that day. A branch, a leaf, began to grow in the time I couldn't see.

After several snows, the leaves are luxuriant.

Line after line of footprints.

Every snow is like a set alarm clock, a reminder, and every snow event is written as a memorial. I drift snow in my heart again and again, piling up into a mountain that cannot be melted for many years.

I know that the snow hidden in time is awakened by the wheat field in spring, melted by the lit paper fire, and covered in winter, which is decorated as a landscape in the countryside. It seems that sleeping is so peaceful and warm.

seven

Snow is a lie made by the season to winter, and a false fairy tale that time has left me again and again. Even so, I am satisfied.

Hiding in a grain of snow like medicine.

On snowy days, drink tea, lean against the window, take a walk, and then relive it in your heart and say goodbye.

Once the snow is warm, boil all the wine cooked in the past into tea and poison into poetry.

So cold, so sober

A season of gray is enough to remove the noise of death. The cold of a snow is enough to wake people up. Liveliness is like tea, time is like snow, and it will eventually go away and disappear.

If there is snow to visit, you need to wait 18468 seconds. Every piece of snow, starting from distant time and space, is falling seriously. If the snowy road is long, then seriously walk alone, watching the hay lying down, watching the reeds grow bald, and watching the twilight white earth really clean.

At that time, that trail, I was still me.