that year, due to an unacceptable feeling, I went south by car alone. Along the way, there are not only falling flowers in the late spring wind, but also the worries of catkins flying. The train galloped in the Jianghuai Plain, moaning like a lovelorn man, screaming while running, and the frogs in the paddy field were also quiet. I took this bus more than once in normal days. Everywhere is a youthful and green mood. Nowadays, the memory of the class refutation has buried the beautiful vision.
Perhaps, the gray walls, dark tiles and rugged roads are the thoughts of the moment. I came to this town with my luggage in a hurry. The rain has soaked the vines in front of the window, and the mist is gently rippling by the river. The town is like a subtle ink painting, stretching a plane.
this is my second trip to Jiangnan. The first time is the early spring of first love. Thousands of reds are as busy as thousands of greens, so it is natural for two people to come in that season. I still remember that at the end of the town is a peach forest, "flying lightly and dancing around, painting a green forest." In early spring, even the fallen flowers are blooming. Nowadays, the rain is like sorrow, even if we give up hard, it will only cut off the continuity of the rain, and the spread is still full of sadness; I still remember that the winding water flow in the town was accompanied by our laughter, which turned into a red peony by the bridge and blossomed into a smile.
count the rain drops outside the window, and look for the fragrance of Tang poetry and Song poetry through the rain color in the south of the Yangtze River. It can be said that most of the charm of Jiangnan is soaked in the rain in the south of the Yangtze River, and the rain smell in the south of the Yangtze River is permeated with the lingering charm of Song Ci. The whole taste of Jiangnan is the taste of lovelorn, which is somewhat addicted, somewhat down and out, and somewhat helpless. Haitang is still red, fat, green and thin, the love with crimson lips, and the worry of slow voice ... are all pieces of feelings that have been rained. "Free flying flowers are as light as dreams, and endless silk rain is as fine as sorrow". That dream is a beautiful dream, and that sorrow is also a light joy.
When I hid in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, I chose peace and meditation. We always have to give our hearts a holiday when our fate is crowded, so that our hearts can stretch in another space. Although this space is equally cramped and depressed, it can eventually clean everything that represents the past. It's like clearing another kind of boredom with one kind of boredom, and replacing another kind of luxury with one kind of luxury. We will eventually restore ourselves in the constant interlacing.
when a person is extremely lonely, he will naturally think of the dependence in the rain, and he will also remember the expectations left by the small towns in the south of the Yangtze River. Jiangnan's unique moist taste is like tears of lovelorn love, the faint alley in Jiangnan, and also like the path of lost love. Looking at love in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, love will be meaningful and find the distance of love in confusion. Later, I rubbed that experience into a landscape painting on the wall, looked up in the lonely and helpless days, and it began to rain.
The small town, as small as a second hand, traveled across the banks in a few minutes; Small as it is, the town has many untold stories. People born in counties and cities find it difficult to understand the warmth and strength brought by small towns. This kind of power can quench paranoia and excitement, and it can also give people a little confidence when they are weak.
Being light without love is the pursuit of the town. It doesn't want to carry anything, and it can't carry anything. Everything is like falling water, and flowers bloom and fall.