Part 1: Memories in the Rain
It's raining ...... fluttering, like a fairy scattering pearls in the sky to the earth. I love rainy days, standing in front of the window looking at the foggy sky, thoughts come to mind, thoughts pull me back to childhood!
Since I was a child, I have been particularly fond of rainy days. I like the feeling of rain, like to play an umbrella in the rain walk. I like to see the water bubbles when the raindrops fall, and I like to be washed by the rain green plants, and mountains and rivers. I love the way the streams converge to form an endless river after the rain, flowing downward. I love the rainbow in the sky after the rain, and the sunset after the rain! Love to see this beautiful picture!
I remember when I was a child, my father often went to work and was not at home, and my brother and sister went to school. Mom took my brother and me at home. I remember one time, my mom went out, my brother and children to play. I was alone, and in the rain, my mom and brother could not come back. Because I was timid, my mom and my brother left. I opened the window and moved the flower pot to the ground. When I was little, my family lived in a bungalow and the windows were very short. I put a small blanket spread to the windowsill, I lie on top of the window looking out of the rain, looking at all kinds of trees outside in the raindrops under the scrub, green, looking at the distant mountains Luan, rain misty misty see trees and grass are like just bathed, exudes a new breath. I looked dumbfounded, forgetting to be afraid, because the earth after the rain is like a big beautiful picture. Since then I began to like rainy days, began to look forward to rainy days can see a variety of bathed scenery, fantasy bathing after the earth will appear different scenes! Rainy days I like, rainy days will let me relax, rainy days will let me longing, rainy days will bring me a pleasant mood, rainy days will let me see a different rainbow, but also let my mood like that hanging in the sky rainbow! Rainy days feel so good!
If you don't believe me, you can try to feel it.
Who time I gradually grew up, but like rainy days as always. But not as much as those childhood fantasies, not as cheerful. Whenever it rains I will stand in front of the window and look out the window raindrops, will be all the thoughts, despair, worry, uncertainty, lonely heart with the raindrops scattered, no longer think about it, but also because of the rain in the beauty of the child all the troubles temporarily forgotten. When the rain wind blew, cool breath across the heart, a jolt to pull the thoughts back to reality. Outside the window, the rain stopped, the wind stopped, after the rain of the earth as a beautiful picture just completed. The sky is still foggy, but the setting sun is already hanging in the west!
Part II: Memories in the Autumn Rain
The rain continues to fall. But it never washes away, those memories piled up in the sinking seal. Perhaps; is too old, too thick? I don't know what color to paint the pattern of these years. Flip, clear, blur. Occasionally I come across a name; village girl that feels so apt. Slanting an aroma of body odor, as if it were a story in spring? But walking in the rainy season of fall. So far away, so far away ...... It was a little girl with a lively and lovely mischief. Like to read Qiong Yao's novels, like to sing, like those words between the lines flow out, intricate and complex emotions. Like the world as transparent as a water droplet.
Believe in the purity of love, believe in the goodness of humanity, believe in the sincerity of people. I believe that you can walk into your own weaving garden. I want to fly free like a bird, like a white cloud overlooking the mountains and waters of nature, like a small fish swimming in the sea of life, unrestrained. Age always wears away a halo. A seed germinating in the soil, no matter how glorious, can not get rid of the wind, rain, frost and cold. So the little girl grew up, strong. Learned to bear, but also learned to tolerate, but also learned to be a person. I remember when my mother was sick, brothers and sisters are far away from home, the little girl to give up her studies, waiting at the side of her mother, do their own little effort to let her mother go peacefully. The moment when at last it was no longer possible to wake up her mother. The little girl, however, did not have a single tear, because her mind was blank, and there was no longer any feeling of sadness or pain. Now that I think about it, but inexplicable grievances welled up from within, and more than a few tears. Washed away all thoughts.
A person, sometimes need to appropriate release, but not escape. There is an expectation, try to work hard. Time creeps by, no longer a little girl. Step on the train and run in the embrace of nature. Smell the flowers of the prairie, hug the birch trees in the mountains. Pick a basket of wild fruits, pick a basket of mushrooms, and chase the deer. A flock of unnamed birds, and pheasants that often hide their eggs in the grass. Climbing to the top of a mountain because you can't find your way home. I love the branches full of mountain apricots, and the purple ground jujubes, and picking up a branch full of black ears, and the santolina fruit that looks like a cherry. The monkey mushrooms on the quercus trees look across from each other, and the single slender leaf of the berries underground. The wheat fields are full of astragals and the hills are full of peonies. Returning from the mountains, there is always a large handful of flowers in his hand, and some unknown exotic grasses. Watching the eagle hovering over the fence, looking down, taking advantage of the opportunity to carry away the chickens, how funny funny, survival is always the weak and strong. Leading the horse to the big meadow, a vast expanse. The foot of the paved grass, hiding the flow of the creek, milky white spring swimming fish, river forks planted with dense clams. Looking at that fresh-water crayfish shrimp, it looks silly when it sees people and doesn't move a muscle. It really deserves its name; dead crayfish. A patch of sunflowers on the hillside, hidden by the big forest circle. Stumps a few stories thick, hollowing out a few bird eggs. Those jungles full of hazelnut berries, I like to run to the back slopes of the big mountains, because the primroses grow next to the big trees in the back cliffs. Curiosity increased the fun of playfulness. It opens up the mind even more.
Part III: Memories in the falling rain
Outside the window and drizzle, thinking a little bit of drop by drop, drop by drop; a wisp of sentimentality with the rain drops drifting down, falling in the red dust in every corner, sighing lightly dense as a beaded curtain of rain, spilling, as you wish to dance lightly flying! This is the first time I've ever seen a woman in the world, and I've never seen a woman in the world who can't see the light!
Often a person in such a rainy night, nostalgia for some of the past, nostalgia for some people, this evening, people are still the same, only to sigh that things are not! Many of life's encounters will always be inadvertently far away, leaving only nostalgia and sadness into words, become never tired of support!
Years of past events have long been sunk without books, reminiscent of the time after years of infiltration, suitable for the growth of anything, want you have become a habit, I knitted brows and smiled, hands and feet are my attachment to a picture, the picture of the beauty of the world, and my distance from you but the sky is the limit, never to be seen!
Through the rain curtains as if to see your flowing back, if that is, misty, no trace, resolute forward, but at this moment, who is your today's red face? The light between the strangers who is the immortal tenderness of your fingertips! Twilight look back between the eyes can ever see the tears flowing! In the rain to feel your warm fingertips touch the heart of the strand of love and sorrow can not be waved away!
The sea of people in a hurry, you and I are just two parallel lines that will never intersect, and eventually parted at the crossroads of life, a person's night, so a posture of remembrance, allowing time to slowly flow, want you still!
Hazy moonlight, leaning on the fence alone, silent, for you alone spilled two lines of tears, the small window still, the rain can not wash away the once bone-deep hatred of love, the ghost of a dream Jue, trickle of dreams, dreams wake up where you are? The night rain, the moon is still cool, and I am still so full of tenderness tirelessly read you!
This is the place to ask the sky, phase phase phase on the compound years, line through the life of dozens of years, tears still! The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
If people can be reincarnated, if there is a reincarnation in the world, then what was our previous life? We met whether it is just a previous life of unfinished business, in exchange for a brief meeting in this life, but why miss each other to rely on the shoulders! You once said, I am your ageless red face in this life, is your only unchanging love, only for this ageless vow! A person stubbornly waiting in the lonely flowers blooming season, just like flowers and beautiful women can not resist the flow of years! All the past has now gone with the wind, smoke disappears! The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
The first wave of loneliness, the miss has missed, those dusty past become the heart of the most secret pain, a person alone in such a miserable night, such a rain 'season, silently caressing wounds, gently ask yourself, whether there is still a little bit of reluctance to adhere to the fall of the mood you can ever perceive!
The night is disorienting, you said every word, still haunting dreams, trembling strings is Zhuang Sheng a song after the dance of the butterfly, so holding my soul, in the dark rainy night drifting my grief!
Broken if the dust and smoke, a few degrees on earth, dream flow rhyme, cold and warm people, a night and the east wind, the heart of the graffiti into the years, waving the world how much style, over the eyes of the Shaohua hidden in the flowers of the heart of the matter is also quietly and fall, the mountain color is full of smoky rain after the building, as if to see your figure in the tea smoke faded away!
Smoke and water thousands of Xun, flower things over and over, but the dust is not broken! Thinking of you as running water, there is no poor self when! If life is only like the first time, whether the end will be different, if there is really reincarnation, you and I can hold hands, fingers linked, walk through the years, walk through the wind and rain, to the end of life!
The clouds spread again in the sky, the thin legacy of the black sadness of the sky, bathed in the window gap blowing in the wind, the thoughts banished outside the sky, floating to the infinite dome of the sky, over the miss the rain curtains in the bustle of the street! The wind is like a breeze without a trace, as the rain falls to the ground into mud!
The distant sky, the clouds carry my endless thoughts, and the wind and the moon, in the disorientation of the night to recall those past, those who had been once the heart of the debris!
Article 4: Memories in the Autumn Rain
What I can't forget in my life is the blossoming of the santan flowers in the autumn rain.
The fine rain drenched the smooth and greasy spine of the road, and the street lamps were like a drunken man with a long neck stretched out in a red face. I stood in front of the three-page glass window, looking at the dusk descending mountains and the drizzle, a kind of trance of melancholy feelings will rise.
I love the autumn dewy santalum, as I love my deer. Every day, when I have a fresh santalum in a vase, I feel that my day is a fresh day, a red and colorful day.
Every morning, I would go to the flower market and spend a nickel on a bouquet of santanas, a symbol of joy and freshness for the day. Every time I went to buy flowers, it was always the little girl with two tiny crochets, shouting, "Buy flowers, buy flowers, fresh santan flowers." The sweetness of that cry was like the running water in the morning, and like a little lamb calling for its mother's milk, milk sweet milk sweet. I followed that sweet cry and walked over, first saw those two sweet smiles, and my little lips moved: "Buy flowers, fresh pandan flowers." As she said this, she used a pair of small and somewhat rough-skinned hands to hold up a bouquet of santan flowers in a bamboo basket. I took the flowers with one hand, threw a five-cent coin into her arms, and gently walked back to my apartment. I'm not going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it.
The little girl's crocus, the core of the flower is fat and powdery, in the morning exudes the mellow fragrance of honey and rose glue, the root of the flower leaves curved volume and thick, the lace transition color is thin and just right. This flower worries like a love poem, but also like a Bergonini lyric serenade, melodious and light. The little girl's santan flowers fat and tender, more water, resulting in a vase inserted in twenty-four hours will not look old and melancholy.
Autumn rain, still like a lyrical song, not because I buy flowers and rest, not because of the little lamb's call for milk and rest, still in the leisurely shake down his melancholy notes.
Buying flowers has become a symbol of my pursuit of life. Look at the santan flowers, I will produce a very love of life, look at the santan flowers, I always feel a rare pleasure and relief.
This day, the sun has shone through the flower market, the flower market is very lively, people bustling with thousands of lilies, peonies, chrysanthemums, lamps and lanterns in the flower talk, talk and laugh. I went to the flower market as usual, I often go to buy flowers, but out of the corner of my eye, I always look out of the little girl to buy flowers, but also can't see the flower basket of the shandan flowers. I thought, am I late? Did the girl run out of flowers? No. I still don't trust my judgment! I still do not believe in their own judgment, always feel that the little girl will be in the flower market, I contain a searching eye, in the flower market in every corner of the sweep of the search once again, all the young men and women to buy flowers and sell flowers to the old girls, not the santan flower girl to, I was a little disappointed, then back to the resentment.
"Big brother, but you buy flowers?" Suddenly, the little girl scurried in front of me and stretched the flower on my chest. I gave a customary hmmm. "Here, I left this for you, I knew you would come." That sweet child's voice and almost a tremulous tone of voice stirred my heart, as if a stream had rushed through it, and then there was a river that merged into a river that lapped at me. I think about my childhood.
I received the santan flowers, the corner of the mouth uncomfortably upward, gently smelled the flowers, ah, so fragrant! Larger and more tender than usual, the morning dew is still like a grain of small pearls that have not shaken off, rolling back and forth on the flowers, and the girl also specially dipped the roots of this bouquet of flowers in a thin layer of harvest soil, wrapped in plastic.
"Big brother," the little girl seems to see my infatuation with santan flowers, "I can not sell flowers later, you ......" words did not finish, she slowly lowered her head. At this time I saw that the pair of Lingli's deep eyes clearly contained a tide of morning dew. "For what?" "My mother is sick, no one to take care of, I can no longer sell the cattleya!" The words did not finish, she turned sharply, hand carrying a flower basket, to the crowd in a hurry, I want to call out to her, I do not know what I want to say or want to ask what, but did not shout out, only hand toward the front of the stretch, gently "oh" a sound. The girl has disappeared in the flower market crowd, leaving me just two small onion braid shadow and with a question mark melancholy.
I do not know why there is a sense of loss, and the little girl's tired love, perhaps the crocus flowers between us to pass a kind of pure chaste brother and sister love, perhaps, because I buy flowers every day, she sells flowers every day for the sake of.
I stood woodenly in the flower market, the pollen in my hand was blown by the morning wind leisurely floating up, like a continuous, with the golden edge of the autumn rain, leisurely sprinkled in the morning light.
Part V: Memories in the Drizzle
In the evening, the setting sun slowly slid down, slowly, collecting its own light and beauty, the sky was a little gray ...... This is a clear picture that has remained in my mind for many years.
The gray evening is not due to the nightfall, but there are clouds drifting, not the kind of dark clouds, is the kind of thin and slightly humid clouds, swimming to the head to see a small drop of rain drops, gradually become silk strip, very thin, very thin, very soft, very soft, and sometimes not, like the air fluttering silk threads. At this time, the city below the clouds suddenly quiet a lot.
The rain is euphemistic, euphemistic, a kind of tenderness, a mood, a mood. We both like this kind of fine rain, like the evening off work can meet this kind of rain, like in this kind of evening with the flower umbrella into the rain, breathe y, inhale the kind of rain to bring the kind of cool, so cool, so cool. A day of exhaustion, a day of tiredness, and tense nerves at this time are relieved by the rain. Along the sidewalk of the road traffic, we slowly step, talking, talking, whispering, talking to each other about their own affairs of the heart, sweet, sour, spicy, more bitter. I understand you, more you comfort me. At that time you are in the age of youth, I have been over, but the heart is tender, our sisters have no generation gap and disconnect, on the side of the complexity of people and things, can reach a complete agreement on the views of your perceptions often surprise me. We were not people who wanted to talk about others, but trouble always followed me around. I really do not understand, then we, how to live so tired, so difficult, so bitter, so depressed, so not easy, every step have to be careful, such as walking in the thorn road, the slightest mistake, will be pierced to the head, and let themselves pay a terrible price.
Footsteps forward, along the road sidewalk slope, we walked on the peach blossom path, was a little bit of rain moisturized the peach blossom extraordinarily charming. There is a fine rain with peach blossoms, we simply put away the flower umbrella, bathed in the rain, around the peach tree looking up at the head, the head is the peach blossoms in full bloom in the sky, the heart is suddenly cozy, at this moment, the heart of all the repression, worry, confusion, fear, instantly dissipated. The heart net, net let a person comfortable and happy, the soul quiet, quiet no longer think about what will face tomorrow.
Under the flower tree, we are very innocent, very sweet, happy as if we are the only two left in the world. We said to the peach blossoms, "It's so nice!"
These are the first time I've ever seen a woman in the world who has been in the world for a long time, and I've never seen her in the world.
We have become naughty children who do not want to go home, let the "adults" worry, we love the rain. It's late, the people on the road to go home in a hurry, and we are still in the peach blossom on the road wandering, wandering ...... my messy thoughts and moods, so by the rain and peach comb and dissolve, no longer so painful.
I'm afraid that you are implicated by me this unlucky person, repeatedly reminded you to stay away from me, you stubbornly said "I'm not afraid!" You just don't care has been with a sincere heart, accompanied me out of that period of no happy haze shrouded days ...... I often think in my heart, that a period of life is bumpy thanks to you, not alone, you give me the friendship of a lifetime to remember.
That year, we had no choice but to suddenly have to separate. Before leaving, several times you said with tears in your eyes, the heart is empty, there is something was left at the same time a few good sister took away. You are sad, I am also sad, I also shed tears, you are so weak, my heart is really full of worry ......
A goodbye for many years, the years have no mercy to draw the wheel of the year carrying the time to fly away. I'm older, you're not young, the years are old, people are also old, only that the rain constitutes a graceful mood, that peach paved the path, and our friendship, long existed in the heart, evergreen.
Occasionally, we will be on the phone at both ends to tell each other's thoughts and longing, each time a long, long, heart of the sincerity and the fire has not been reduced, has not become diluted, still as before ......
At this time of the evening, the outside of the fine drizzle, stood in front of the window, the thoughts out of the window, floating in the rain, not only the less a confidant around, but also a little more than a few days ago, I was in the middle of the rain, I was in the middle of the rain. I'm not only lamenting the fact that there is less of a confidant around.
I put up the umbrella, a person into the rain, a person quietly quietly think of you, think of those years, think of those things, think of our unforgettable experience and our friendship. Also reflect on the year our tenderness, thinking about our two simple people never realize the interpersonal relationships and the world's coolness ......