Walk in the heart

A thin layer of fog, on the quiet winding river, half-gathered and half-exposed, young and graceful. White walls and black tiles on the banks of the river, willows have not germinated and will not wake up. Jiangnan water town, Suzhou and Hangzhou paradise, beautiful.

I walked slowly in this cold early spring, and the pedestrians on the road were bustling, and the white-haired old man sat on the stone pier by the roadside and shook his tea. A friend once said that life in Suzhou is very fast. I don't think so. How fast is that? Without visiting the shopping center, gusu district's time is still slowly flowing.

Probably only words will say that Chengdu is a city suitable for providing for the aged, and the author who travels must have never seen the white-collar workers coming in and out of the office buildings in that city. Just like Zhao Lei who was on fire a while ago. However, Chengdu is not a rainy city. The city built by tall buildings is so high that people's necks ache when they look up. Chengdu locals also go to teahouses.

Therefore, the wandering singers are actually different from the hometown people who are haunted by dreams. The wife who cooks with fireworks at home and the girl outside always seem to be the relationship between white roses and red roses.

If you have stayed in a city for ten years and are almost familiar with the clouds in the sky, the weather at night and the smell of lampblack coming from next door, you will know this city.

Understanding will produce attachment, attachment makes people reluctant to go, but looking up at the stars in tossing and turning, where will my thoughts fall?

I remember when I was seven years old, on my way to school, it rained cats and dogs. Because there are lotus flowers everywhere in the country, I am soaked and fearless. I took off my shoes and socks and walked out of the field. Lotus leaf field, nodding in the rain, protecting the lotus around you, or blooming wantonly or wanting to be ashamed. Thousands of miles away, misty and rainy. There are stars, red and white. Lotus can be picked in Jiangnan, so there is no lotus leaf. But this is not a water town, but a hometown sleeping in a dream.

I remembered the snow in the twelfth lunar month every year when I was studying in Hubei. The snow on the holly tree is one by one, and the small green tray is round, just like a blooming tree. The layers of faint fragrance lingering in the flower trees are contributed by Chimonanthus praecox in the corner of the yard. The plum blossoms in Huang Chengcheng are hidden in the vast snow and fog, but they are invisible. In the evening, it is a good time to enjoy the snow. All was silent, except the snow piled up on the roof, the branches, the whispers on the path, and one or two unbearable creaks. At this time, the gray sky has stopped snowing. The sky is dark, but clear. Moonlight clearly floats between heaven and earth, embracing youth.

This is my world, the dust settles and the lead is hazy. If it can be turned into the quiet wind at night and the sweet sleeping wheat in the field, it should be very happy. In the worst case, I want to go back to my mother's arms and fall asleep warmly.

Mom is the shadow of memory and the symbol of home. It's a pity that she has been gone for a long time, just like I haven't returned to my hometown for a long time. There is only autumn in my hometown, which is a wrinkle between mountains and rivers.

Behind the house are dark bamboo groves. When autumn passes, they will shake yellow and rustle. Passing through this bamboo forest is the orchard at the foot of the mountain. Orchard is like a baby lying in a bamboo basket, and there is no need to build a wall on a natural cliff. It makes people look at the golden garden in vain, and the smell of orange oil climbs from the foot of the mountain to the mountain wantonly. At this time, the sunshine is still warm, lying in the withered grass, smelling sweet and sour fruits, watching the clouds in the sky and listening to the wind around, even more drunk than sinking into Dickens' poems.

If you are drunk, go to bed. Anyway, there is still a long time before dusk.

Looking back, the scenery remains the same.