How do you commemorate Leslie Cheung every year?

From last night to today, it has been raining, as if even heaven was brewing sorrow for the fall of a prosperous and beautiful man many years ago.

When I walked out of the coffee shop where I worked, I saw Leslie Cheung's songs playing one by one on the huge LCD screen of KTV opposite, from "The Moon Represents My Heart" to "Monica", and from "The Wind Keep Blowing" to "Me", as if I were also "responding to the call" to remember this Hong Kong artist who had been touched and made many people sad.

Although my favorite song "Star" is not broadcast, whenever I think of the lyric "When you see the bright star, will you think of me", I will feel melancholy, and believe it or not, it is warm, because I will really think of him.

I know he won't hear it again, and he won't feel it. After all, we have been separated for so many years and so far, but I know it is enough.

I stood there, listened to a few songs foolishly, and then went downstairs. I thought sadness would slowly drown my heart, but strangely, I didn't feel much.

Maybe it's because I'm not too presumptuous to be young, maybe my heart is really not as cautious as it used to be, maybe I like this man from beginning to end, not as deep as many people, although I was moved by his many screen images.

Sometimes, I even have a little doubt. I don't even remember the memorial day of my grandmother who loved me so much. I may not even be able to go home and light some incense for my deceased relatives during the Qingming Festival. After all these years, I have already let go, and my eyes will no longer be wet with regret or sadness. Is it ironic that I am too concerned about the memorial day of a favorite artist?

Maybe because you can't remember yourself, others will help you remember, and the media will help you remember, but this annual "sense of ceremony" is something I can't help feeling empty.

I'm willing to spend my whole life remembering someone, and I don't deny that I will spend my day forgetting him, but as long as one day I think of him, he is always so memorable, and I think this is my greatest compliment to him.

it's just my idea. From the bottom of my heart, I still like this man It's the flirting in Farewell My Concubine, the tenderness and hatred of "a smile will last forever, and a cry will last forever". It's a wandering look back in Rouge Kou, which is not enough. He also has a peerless smile on his lips, which is the lost figure when he lingered in Buenos Aires in Spring. Only after he was lonely and wandering, did he suddenly realize that he had no affectionate partner to go home, except for pale memories. It is also the unrestrained figure of him galloping on a motorcycle on the banks of the Seine in Across the Sea. For a long time, I thought that the playboy in Yi Shu's novel The Unrestrained Wind was performed by Leslie Cheung.

But I like a person. Of course, I don't need to face that person day and night to cope with daily necessities. I prefer to remember his bright part, because I don't care whether he has a broken soul, a bumpy life, and a sad ending. To put it bluntly, it's really something that is separated from me by a mountain. Instead of deliberately smearing it, I prefer to hold a feeling that a friendship between gentlemen is as light as water.

Of course, I'm not criticizing or poking fun at it, because likes are also deep and shallow. Maybe some people really love too much, so they deserve to be considerate. Who calls him really unique, unique and beautiful?

He's gone. After all these years, I still miss him, like I miss a gorgeous and moving side face I saw in the subway in a certain month, like a graceful and graceful Emei Moon hanging quietly in the dark mountains, like the first time I saw Yuanyang Jasmine, when the petals of purple and white were complementary.

I won't be sad, and I won't shed tears. I can also watch one of his old movies, ashes of time, Ghost Story, or The Story of Teddy Boy. He is still young, sad and lonely, but handsome. How nice that he is still young before my eyes.

After many people left us, they gradually turned into a bleak background color in our memories. With the passage of time, they may only gradually become light and become natural beings. I think it is unnecessary for them to wriggle too much and insincerely. Even Zhang himself must not want to see such a scene.

As I walked through the splendid twilight in Harbin, the quiet Meng Dong in Nanluoguxiang and the splendid lights in Haihe River, I regarded the scenery along the way as the most beautiful and graceful brushstrokes in my life. I missed them, and I missed them after all, but every time I look back, they are still beautiful and still so lonely and emotional.

in the evening, the sky suddenly cleared up, and for a while, the circle of friends took turns to show the clear and clear blue sky, like a collective carnival, and I couldn't avoid it. A friend, a romantic activist, said with emotion, I will watch this day until the night falls inch by inch. I suddenly thought of the sentence in Faulkner's novel that once moved me: "Listen to the sound of the night falling inch by inch."

I haven't seen such a blue sky for a long time. That kind of blue is pure, refined and understated. It is a kind of blue that reminds people of the animation directed by Miyazaki Hayao. It is poetic and airy, without much vastness and profundity, but it makes people feel happy from the heart.

but I prefer the bright sunset outside the window to the picture of the old house covered with withered vines rather than the blue sky that people are eager to admire.

You see, although it is old, vicissitudes and difficulties, the sunshine is still willing to take care of me. I am not as optimistic and cheerful as you think, but I will never pretend to be sad.

Just like when I read Sanmao's works, I was repeatedly moved by her true temperament, stirred by her poetic and wonderful life, and provoked like a flowering tree by her lively and interesting love story with Jose. I naturally knew that she had finally lost her eternal lover without regrets, and I naturally knew that she had finally ended her life in an extreme way.

I accept it, like accepting all the spring coming to the east, accepting the summer heat after the summer solstice, and accepting that the end of the dawn is the dawn. I am not very sad or disappointed. I know that she once lived, and she lived more splendidly than anyone else. She once loved, and her love made many people yearn for it. She was once beautiful, and her beauty was fascinating.

when I look at the photo of her sitting comfortably in the desert, I feel a kind of admiration that hits my heart. Sometimes, beauty is something that makes people speechless for a moment, as if it were frozen by a primitive curse.

You will forget any words for a while, forget all the distractions that lingered in your mind not long ago, and things have changed. At this moment, you are like a virgin in a new bath, with shocking purity and beauty in your eyes.

Just like I often see a picture of Leslie Cheung wearing a black suit, slightly dark skin and handsome demeanor at the Cannes Film Festival, I also find it pleasing to the eye and beautiful. That's enough.

I suddenly remembered that vulgar sentence: "The sunshine always comes after the storm." How superficial it is, but how appropriate it is.

I thought, it was Leslie Cheung who gave me the most beautiful smile, like the shy one when he took a photo with Duan Xiaolou as a souvenir, like the one when he showed off his manners to the painter by the bridge, like the most touching one in my memory.