Wedge
Curving down this widened and widened road, she heard voices from afar.
This is the road she has walked to and from school countless times coming and going - but now, the face is completely different. It had been four years since she graduated from junior high school, and she was now on summer vacation, starting her sophomore year. In the past four years, she had never walked along the road again, and it reminded her of the past for no reason at all.
Remember that at that time, she walked always like to pick a beautiful colorful stone kicking, first kicked far away, and then chased up, and then kicked, and then chased up ...... all the way home or to school, and has been kicked to the classroom or doorstep, or, can no longer be found in place! ......
Thinking about it, the girl who thought she had grown up and had just started junior high school appeared in the infinite slanting sun that was falling: dragging her hunting bag (she called her school bag a hunting bag), humming, and picking wildflowers and weeds to play with with her own pleasure: either tearing the petals off one by one and learning how to scatter them along the way; or picking a kind of furry flower like the one in the sky, or picking a kind of hairy grass like the one in the sky. Or sticking the leaves of a furry weed that looks like a split fan on your lapel for decoration; or sticking a couple of dogwoods in your buttonhole ......
Well, there was supposed to be a big old banyan tree, and underneath it was a big old banyan tree, with a big old banyan tree. Under the old banyan tree, there should have been an old wooden house, and under the windy eaves of the old wooden house, there should have been an old red lantern, and on the red lantern, there should have been the word "water" written in bright yellow ...... Ah yes, the windowsill of the old wooden house was once the place where she piled up the thick, fleshy petals of the begonias, which she used to put on the window. The sill of the old wooden house, where she used to pile up the thick, fleshy petals of the begonias. I remember that every time she passed by, she had to look toward the old wooden window pane, the black hole in the old house Zhang, and then pile up the petals, pile up. The wind, however, took the liberty of drying them up, blowing them away, spilling ...... red and red dots embroidered all over the place.
There, and there, there should have been an old and broken big truck, tires flat, peeling paint, lonely abandoned there, never see someone to drag it away. And it was, once upon a time, a milestone for Bend. Because it was right in the middle of home and school, and to see it was to say that the destination was not far away.
As she thought this, Bend suddenly stopped. Uh-huh... and... and... what about those two boys who were always rushing around and chasing each other? What about the boys who have been walking together on the same road for the entire middle school years, either far away or close to each other, without even realizing it? Out of nowhere, Bend saw those two familiar teenagers again, climbing into the cab of the broken truck through the door that wouldn't open, sitting on the old leather cushions, fretfully turning the rusty steering wheel, desperately snapping the horn that wouldn't blare, yelling and screaming with joy and whatnot.......
Today, four years after the Today, the first reunion of middle school classmates, might I run into them both?
Far from the sound seems to be intermittent floating sheep and come, bend then seek the sound line to go - days! I want to see them as soon as possible. Excited heart so full up, four years ah, what will they be like now? They have changed or not changed?
Just next to the S Middle School, she saw the dance hall called "Back to the House". The large, clear, floor-to-ceiling glass was drenched in a melancholic sunset - like a glass of pure rosé wine. This was the place.
As Bend stood still, she heard the murmuring English tune in her ears, the voice of Simon and Garfunkel: "Tell her to knit me a thin shirt, a thin shirt, and coat it with parsley, sorrel leaves, rosemary, and musk vanilla. ...... "
This sound is so familiar, as if a kind of heart to God to follow the deep call like, bend can not help but be shaken, the heart will be hanging in fear. What? He also came? That ...... him? Bend for a moment do not know whether to go in, that for many years without the end of the story, waiting for such a reunion? Lift up your eyes, but see the east, gradually rising a hook new moon, pale, thin and transparent; while the west, but also hanging a round of red sun, round, pale and quiet. Because the sun belongs to the day and the moon belongs to the night, the sun and the moon meet only at that fortuitous moment.
Bend turned away, wandered for a long time, and finally did not step into the party of hot Luo, alone, walking forward, walking forward - the sky darkens itself, all those fantasy like electricity in the past, just step by step ......
If you want to hear the dreams of your youth, sit on my steps.
Those and Ying and turbid past ah, is who want but tears?
The first words of the hearing
"The wind is soft, the sun is thin, the spring is still early, and the jacket is in a good mood. Sleeping up and feeling slightly cold, plum blossoms on the sideburns of the remnants of ...... "Bend remembers that day she got up very early, low chanting half a section of Li Qingzhao's" Bodhisattva barbarians ", Shi Shi pushed open the plain wooden window, lifting up the wind orchids and hanging bamboo plums hanging from the curtain of flowers - - curtains, sparsely covered with flowers, and the flowers are not the same. -On the curtain, sparsely adorned with a few light buds, wanting to open but still shy, wanting to open but still shy like. The season is long past the beginning of autumn, but it still feels like spring.
2005-07-14 17:19 Reply
218.25.160.* 3rd Floor
The early morning sunshine was blown by the wind, floating all over the house. Neighboring old lady got up even earlier, lit up on the small red clay stove, is boiling lotus seed sugar porridge, sugar porridge poofing curls of smoke, and with the fragrance of rice, through the window to diffuse in. Wisps of illusory golden beams of light - piercing through the tangled branches and leaves of the sycamore tree - scattered down, scattered down, and particles of smoke could be seen suspended languidly in them. A bright bird's cry, empty, hollow, as if it were close to the ear and far away in a deep bamboo forest nowhere to be seen.
Bent neck on a white towel, walking in the light wind, a full head of dashing hair - slightly flying. Come to the dewy well that has fallen a fine crushed cinnamon flowers, hit a wooden pot of cool well water. Then, poured a spoonful of rosebud dew in it, stirred it well, while leaning against the well rail, scooped up the water with a gourd ladle, rinsed the silky flowing long hair - the scent of nature, the fragrance of flowers and grasses, so collected together in the hair ......
Neighboring House The old woman put out the fire and sat on a small stool in the corner of an old stone wall covered with ficus vines, holding a rough earthenware bowl in her hand, blowing on it while she drank porridge. An old black cat lazily crouched at her feet, arching its back and basking in the sun. For a moment, the old lady lifted up her eyelids, but saw a little girl, wearing a white banana cloth dress, in the xi morning light gracefully walking, cool smooth and fragrant wet hair draped over both shoulders.
"Yo!" The straight old lady couldn't help picking up her thumb, "Little girl, so pretty!"
Bend then smiled, bright as a white lily blooming at the tip of the sun.
It was when the summer vacation was about to end and the new school year had not yet begun that Bend received an acceptance notice from Key S Middle School. The notice said that that day was the day for new students to report to the school - after reporting to the school, Bend was a brand new middle school student.
It was a dream come true. In the past, from the back window you could often see the S Middle School students doing radio exercises, mom would sometimes say: "Bend, come and see - that's the S Middle School, only the smartest brothers and sisters can go to the S Middle School, Bend grow up to go to the S Middle School Oh!" When he said that, his eyes were full of expectations. Bend looked at the big brothers and sisters from afar with the music of the radio exercise together, think they are really happy ah. At that time, in her eyes, S Middle School is heaven. If I can also wear the S school badge walking in the street, in the envious eyes of everyone high stance how good it?
I didn't think that such a wonderful wish would come true so soon.
The summer vacation has been a boring one at home. I'm looking forward to the start of the school year, so that I can meet my new classmates earlier. So, after a quick breakfast, I was anxious to go to school.
Finally sitting in the new, cleaned classroom -- first year class six, hmm. Everything was so exciting, and right outside the window, was a pool of blooming white roses. Bent deliberately turned her face away, absently looking at the full blossom buds. In fact, what she wanted to study more in her heart was - this room full of top students from various elementary schools - her new classmates ah.
Suddenly, over the hill, a small black dot rose out of the horizon, who is flying hair, gilded with a day-colored golden edge? Gradually, rising out of the cold eyebrows and eyes, gradually, rising out of the handsome nose and lips, gradually, rising out of a handsome boy's face, gradually, rising out of an indigo denim boy. He wheeled his two long legs and darted across the horizon, with the great red sun behind him, and crossed any obstacle that came his way, all of which was so unimportant in his eyes. He crossed the railings of the playground, crossed the horizontal bicycle, crossed the flower pool in front of the classroom ...... and then crossed again, abruptly stopped in front of everyone, as if he had cast some kind of static law like standing still, and then the face is not red, the heart is not jumping, as if nothing happened to find an empty seat and sit down - - really elegant as a leopard. -That was as graceful as a panther.
Bend couldn't help but blush a little, secretly blaming herself for looking at the strange boy for so long. After all, at thirteen, it was an easy age for the heart to flutter, and it was because of the boy's cool running posture and his youthfulness of total disinterest in everything that made Bend remember him so fondly.
Today, seven years later, Bend recalls the shyness of that time, and can not help but feel short of breath. Was that the initial mark he left on her? Perhaps, perhaps, in another hundred years, he - too - would still be the catcher of her heart?
Later, the class teacher, Mr. Yan, walked in. The teacher, Ms. Yan, was so young and beautiful, a fresh graduate from the Chinese Department of Normal University. She just so quietly in the podium behind a stand, not like other teachers like, holding a whip hard knocking on the blackboard to yell: "Everyone quiet! Everyone be quiet!" But the classroom suddenly fell silent. She seems like a wild lily in the morning mist, calm, quiet but honest and straightforward, with the same classical beauty as Lin Daiyu's fresh look, but in her bones is a modern woman's vitality and boldness. Her gaze just turned an angle without thinking, and suddenly enveloped a room of light. Everyone was unconsciously lost, and in that moment, they seemed to be shocked by the beauty of her light.
2005-07-14 17:19 Reply
218.25.160.* 4F
As for what Ms. Yan was wearing, I can't recall at this moment. Perhaps, a real beauty, need was not jingling beads of gold and silver jewelry - her own light is enough to make all the jewelry eclipsed. I remember that Ms. Yan loved interesting botanical jewelry. Clever as she was, she was always refreshing. Or pick a budding red rose diagonally inserted in the pulled up hair, pick a strand of green silk fluttering in the cheeks, between the ears; or skewer two clean white magnolias, worn on the buttonhole, step by step, step by step, step by step, step by step, swing; or, with red beans and linden strung a few circles of the bracelet around the wrist, if you do not accidentally touch the where, will gently send out a few crunching sound ... ... ...That a dashing out of the dust, fresh and natural feeling is found in this careless flower arrangement wearing grass - "The absolute generation has a beautiful person, secluded in the empty valley ...... day cold green sleeve thin, sunset leaning on the Bamboo." --No wonder that later, when reading Du Fu's "Beautiful Lady," we all thought of Ms. Yan in unison - that kind of fragrance far away from the beauty of the wind and spirit. Later, when the girls talked about the popular stars in private, they would unconsciously compare them with Ms. Yan. As a result, they concluded that they were the most beautiful women in the world. I'm not sure if I've ever seen anything like it, but I'm sure I've never seen anything like it," he said.
The first time I saw Ms. Yan that day, I fell in love with her. It's a matter of liking someone and hating them all at once. Bend liked people all the time and hated people all the time, there was never a reason for it.
I don't remember much of what Ms. Yan said, only that, at the end, she said she would assign a homework: "When you go home, each of you will have a 30-minute tape, with no restrictions on the content or form, as long as you show off yourselves to your heart's content. After school starts, we'll select a good 'personal album' from each group of four. Then, centralized, and then judged from it the first, second and third prizes ......"
Bend at first heard that you have to do homework, thinking that before the official start of the school year, you have to be busy with homework, the heart of the oldest a burst of frustration. After hearing that it was such an original "homework", they smiled. Very creative - bending thought, who has done this kind of homework? From that moment on, Bend was determined to try her best to impress Mr. Yan with something different.
On the way home, while picking small wildflowers on the side of the road and inserting them in the grommet, she planned her first "personal album" in her mind.
Once home, I brought a carton of blank tapes out and picked a box of Sony. After filling the mouth of the tape recorder, I couldn't decide what to say first.
So I took a pen and paper and wrote a draft. But I was stunned to see my face, and I thought for a long time. I'm not sure what to say, but I'm not sure what to say. I've been looking in the mirror, and I've seen myself clearly. In the mirror is an angelic and flawless face. Even though I looked at it critically, I couldn't find any flaws - it was too perfect, too perfect to be real. The illusion was as fragile and breakable as glass, always sad, always wanting to hurt someone or herself. It is because it is too perfect, mom is worried: "It is said that a woman's age has changed, the more she has changed, the better she looks. Bend'er has grown up to be so perfect now, will she become ugly when she grows up?"
Mom's worry is also the worry of bending, hey - if I grow up, can be like Mr. Yan like good. After a while, Bend came up with these lines, "My name is Qu Bend, like the curved moon. I am a sentimental girl, very quiet and lonely. I like talking to mirrors, writing my name on water, seeping music into the air, and letting the wind blow my long hair away ......"
Bend enjoyed this sentimental introduction of herself. Clearing her throat, she solemnly pressed record, play, and read it in a very slow, very slow voice. The result: very unsatisfactory. Why was my voice so shrill and tight? Why isn't it subdued and soothing at all? Bend fussy thought. Then, without hesitation, erased it - and started over. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to be as calm and collected as possible, visualizing the ethereal mood. Then, only slowly, did he begin to read. But it only took less than two sentences to read it wrong, oops--
Albums are really not easy. In order to strive for excellence, bending so tirelessly, over and over again, wipe the recording, recording and wipe ...... just a box of 30 minutes of the album, but it took her a whole week's time. The album has a feature that - Bend said, "When I'm alone, I like to play the bagpipes ......" and then, played a tune from Wait Until Tonight. Next, Bend said, "There is one, it is my favorite ......" Then, sang that old "Rutabaga Boat" in a clear voice, and sang it, and sang it to the beat, and struck up a square rattle, and tinkled out the metal aftertaste of the crispness and the high sound of the old days. Then he said, "How is it? Hear what the tune is?" "I also like to write poems, although not good, but, I still like to write, I can read a small poem I wrote myself to you" ...... the whole album, are such a monologue style, has a kind of casual and loose, as if thinking of where to talk about it. In fact, the bend can be attentive - is carefully planned rambling.
2005-07-14 17:19 Reply
218.25.160.* 5th Floor
The process of the album, there are constantly small accidents, often making the bend laugh and cry, but when all this is over, the bend but for no apparent reason, nostalgia: nostalgia for the mother to open the door to come in and was interrupted by the poem recitation; nostalgia for the blowing to the end, the nerves are too tense. The last, the nerves are too tense and mistakenly blow a slide; miss singing, suddenly stopped laughing ......
Then, bent in a silver gray cardboard, with ink pen drew a long hair in the wind like a girl in the clouds, half-hanging long eyelashes, the face of a kind of dreamy sadness, next to the written The word "True Me" was written next to it as the title of this box of albums. Finally, a few strokes of white gouache were added to brighten it up a bit, and then no other colors were added. This style of painting originated from the impressionist Degas's "Tied Shoes" - light and flowing contours, hidden lines, unadorned purity, and faintly diffused sadness, all of which Bend liked. At the end of the day, I cut it out with a craftsman's knife, folded it into the transparent box of the tape, and used it as the album cover. Well, it's exciting to see how well it turned out on its own - is there anyone more versatile than me? Bend thought triumphantly.
A week after the start of the school year, Bend handed in this "personal album" - "true me", as the mother of the clam handed in the pearl that has been nurtured for many years.
Teacher Yan specially arranged a theme class meeting in the afternoon, specifically to play the selected 12 boxes of albums. That day, it was a real eye-opener -- there were monologues, storytellers, violinists, and guzheng players ...... but it turned out that the first six classes had hidden tigers and dragons.
Later, the bent album debuted on stage. From beginning to end, the students' exclamations of surprise have not subsided. Yes, the aura of not doing anything noisy, the talent of a few hidden if false, everyone clearly felt. Even Mr. Yan couldn't help but praise Bend, saying, there is a mood and a beauty in it, which is very rare among middle school students.
Bending really a little joyful and boundless feeling, but also repeatedly warned themselves not to be too happy too early - not yet finalized it. But in her heart, she was confident for no reason - she thought she was the one who would win the championship.
Hey - when Zhou Yu died, he exclaimed three times in a row, "If you are born with Yu, why are you born with Liang?" Bend also wanted to shout three times, "both born bend, why born flame". However, Zhou Yu was full of hatred and jealousy, but Bend? There is no hatred, no jealousy, but it is very complicated.
By the time the last box of albums was broadcast, the bell was ringing, and there was a commotion among the students, who were packing their bags and preparing to go home. However, suddenly drifted that sound, that clear sound - accompanied by the acoustic guitar, layer by layer, chanting - wandering in the breath, a long way to miles - will be to the end, but But then it came back, as if it was a soft and tender voice, like a watery eye - sung very slowly and very softly by none other than Richard Marx's "Rightherewaiting": " Whereveryougowhateveryoudo,Iwillberightherewaitingforyou,Whateverittakesorhowmyheartbreaks,Iwillberightherewaitingforyou.... ...(No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will always be here waiting for you, no matter how long you wait, no matter how much my heart breaks, I will always be here waiting for you)... "So over and over again, long and long, like the white lotus blossoming quietly, blossoming - -Gradually show the distant lotus core ...... everyone quietly listening, the heart then bit by bit to fly apart - with the sound surplus and gone.
The person is with the heart in the singing, the sound stops, but also a long, long time, the kind of murmuring and soft sighs that accompany the sound, is so straight to the heart. Perhaps true art always comes directly from the heart and resorts to the heart? Bend's heart was y throbbing, she did not believe that this would be a thirteen-year-old boy's voice, it is the wind through the capital and snow drifting down the plateau, painful and speechless--
"My name is Xin Fei Yan." He said, "I will stand at the top of the snowy mountains, cloaked and waiting for all the winds. I will go wherever the wind blows me."
"Music?" He smiled faintly, "It is the intoxication of life. One lives to one's favorite song at any given time. I sing it for no one - only for myself."
What kind of ghost is this? So plain cool, so calm, so unperturbed by the lightness of the day, he spoke such deep and meaningful words?
And then later, he was strongly urged to stand at the podium and sing that old Simon and Garfunkel English song, "Parsley, Sage, Rosery and Thyme": "Tell her to knit me a thin shirt, a thin shirt, and coat it with parsley, Parsley, sorrel, rosemary and muskgrass ......" sung with a little bit of crystal glitter in her eyes, her voice is very light and light, but, yet, it drifts on and on. In fact, no one here can understand all, but, even the class loudest Xia Yujia, also forgot to fool around, listening to the intoxicated. There is no language in this world that can make people all over the world faintly weep when they listen to it, because an unintelligible language is equal to air. But music can, music is a state of mind, it penetrates you, tell you everything. Perhaps, years later, you can no longer remember the details of the words, but as soon as you hum that tune, that a mood but again - still pervades the heart.
2005-07-14 17:19 Reply
218.25.160.* 6th floor
The sound stopped, attracting applause from the hall, the students again applauded and incited: "Cool ah! Xin Feiyan - one more song! One more song!" And so, with his legendary voice, he sang one old English song after another: "The Sound of Silence", "Mindless Fast Talk", "The Breeze Beneath My Wings", "The Yellow Ribbon on the Old Oak Tree"......
But it turned out that English is so different from the monosyllables of Chinese, which are as smooth as a swimming fish, going up and down, circling back and forth, Staccato, changes in the complexity of scurrying to and fro, from time to time to touch your memories, so that you have long forgotten to tears, you no longer want to repress anything, no longer want to banish anything, just want to painfully - tears ......
The bending of the rightful The first time I saw him, I was able to get a good look at him.
After that, English was all the rage in the class. Smart as Xia Yujia stream, chewing gum in the mouth, earplugs in the ear, using the parents and adults three orders are not allowed to listen to music, only allowed to listen to the English Walkman, to come to a seamless compromise - listening to English. The girls' books, too, rejected the gray love pop songs, and instead frantically copied the English - although the meaning of the words no one understands. After class, the sound came up, you a line and I a line, and someone always liked to vaguely sing a few times.
But no one ever sang as purely as he did -- ever. So then, two-thirds of the girls in the class started crushing on him, and another third expressed admiration for him. And whether or not they could sing good English became a criterion for girls to evaluate whether or not a boy was attractive.
Hey - nothing can surpass, the height of music or a sigh - as the Sirens' most beautiful voices, able to charm Odysseus to die of recklessness, not to make a return plan. His voice - too - made Bend feel for the first time a trembling joy, and could not help looking up to the heavens - thinking to draw the cloud to oblivion and descend to earth.
When will he sing one for me alone? Bend pondered.
Many years later, the box of True Self albums was still stashed in a locked drawer; it had only won second prize. Sometimes Bend would glance at it in passing, and would like to turn it over and listen to it, but finally he didn't.
Wasn't that a dream at thirteen? Since it was a dream, it was impossible to catch it, let it all go with the wind - eh?
The second word of the competition
Perhaps, Bend just wanted him to sing one song just for himself, so he was always competing with him consciously or unconsciously, hoping that one day he could win over him - and also let him impress him. However, the next class presidential election, or the bottom of the examination, also, bending all lost.
Xin Fei Yan was elected class president of the first six classes .......