Zhao Lihong is a young essayist, contemporary writer, and member of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), born in Chongming County, Shanghai in 1951, of Han nationality.
Background
After graduating from high school in 1968 and returning to his hometown, Zhao Lihong worked as a carpenter, postal clerk, teacher, and staff member of the county government, and then enrolled in the Department of Chinese Language at the East China Normal University in 1977, where he began to write poetry and prose. After graduating from the university, she worked as an editor of the magazine "Bud". In 1987, Zhao Lihong was recruited as a professional writer of the Shanghai Writers' Association and a member of the Chinese Writers' Association. She was the vice-chairman of the Shanghai Youth Federation and a member of the National Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC). Now she is the vice-chairman of Shanghai Writers' Association. She has published more than thirty collections of poetry, prose and reportage, including Coral, Life Grass and Heart Painting. The work of prose "looking at the moon" was included in the second book of the fifth grade of the Su education version of the 24th class.
He is the author of the prose collection "wind, you old piano player", "life grass", "Venus by the sea", "toddler", "love on earth", "the soul of the poem", "Zhao Lihong selected prose", "islander notes", "the rhythm of life", the collection of poems "coral", "silence of the holly", "lyrical poems 151", the collection of reportage literature, "the heart of the painting", "bird obsessed", the prose "looking at the moon" and so on. The prose "Open a Door for You" was included in the secondary school language textbook of the Soviet Education Edition. His works have won dozens of prizes, and "Poetry Soul" was honored with the prize of National Outstanding Prose Collection in the New Period. In the early eighties, Zhao Lihong, who had already become a member of the Chinese Writers' Association, wrote a prose piece under the title of "The Soul of Poetry", telling the story of him and "Anthology of Pushkin's Lyric Poetry", and expressing his nostalgia for the poet and his complex feelings for that gray era. Behren, a Soviet sinologist and editor-in-chief of the Moscow Publishing House, translated the prose into Russian and introduced it to Russian readers. The Hokey Pokey was written in the eighth unit of the second book of the sixth grade language of the North Normal University edition. After the publication of his prose collection Poetry Soul, he was awarded the prize for outstanding prose collection of the new period in China. The poem "China, My Dear Motherland" was composed into a symphonic chorus and won the "Five One" Project Award of the Central Propaganda Department. The prose "Mountain Rain" was written in the first unit of the first book of the sixth grade of the Humanistic Education Edition. Open a Door for You" was written in the first class of the seventh grade of the Su-Teaching Edition. The Boy with the Top Bowl" was chosen to be in the first unit of the second book of the sixth grade of the Renmin Education Version and in the first semester textbook of the first grade of the Shanghai Language. The prose "Looking at the Moon" was selected in the 24th lesson of the 10th book of the Suzhou National Standard Version of Languages (the second book of the fifth grade).
Zhao Lihong: Books are forever friends
As a matter of common sense, professional writers make their living by writing. However, he has written more than forty literary monographs on prose, poetry, reportage, etc., and his works have won dozens of literary awards at home and abroad. Zhao Lihong, a member of the 7th National Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC), vice chairman of Shanghai Writers' Association, and a famous contemporary prose writer, has always felt that he is still an amateur in his own writing. He said: "To say that I have any specialty, only reading". In the newly published "Zhao Lihong reading essays" book in the preface, Zhao Lihong once again confessed that "the biggest benefit and happiness is reading."
Born in Shanghai, Zhao Lihong, since childhood is a "bookworm", reading never care about the time and occasion, "as long as you pick up an interesting book, you can be mesmerized by it, forget everything." Zhao Lihong is often walking to read, eat to read, sleep to read, toilet also read. From the "Journey to the West", "Fengshen Bang", "Water Margin", "Romance of the Three Kingdoms", "Eastern Zhou Lieguo Zhi", and then to the "Three Hundred Poems of Tang Dynasty", "Liaozhai Zhiyi", "Read Microcosmic Cao Tang Notes" and "Dream of the Red Chamber" `````` Zhao Lihong always felt that "these books are much more interesting than textbooks to learn about the history of the", often read to be enthralled, adult The adult's shouting only woke him up from the dream of obsession.
From upper elementary school to middle school, Zhao Lihong began to contact with modern Chinese literature and foreign literature. No matter what the book, he got to read, usually in addition to read Lu Xun, read Maodun, read Bajin, read Bingxin, he also went to high school sister borrowed home from the library of some of the masterpieces of foreign literature, read once, such as "Anna Karenina", "Don Quixote" and "Resurrection", "War and Peace", "Les Misérables", as well as the "Christchurch enmity," "John Kristof" and so on. Zhao Lihong was especially excited by a new poetry series published by Pingming Publishing House, which he found in a used bookstore in Shanghai. This new series of poems were all Pushkin's poems, translated by Cha Liang Zheng and published in 1955. They became Zhao Lihong's favorite books during his middle school years. It can be said that Zhao Lihong's later writing of poems had a lot to do with reading these books. These books, Zhao Lihong very much cherish, in order to reduce wear and tear, he used transparent paper very carefully wrapped up the cover, but they were still Zhao Lihong turned very old. Zhao Lihong later recalled that, at that time, "I read a lot and miscellaneous, read gulp, read no chapter and verse, but is to rely on such reading, so that I broadened my horizons, increased knowledge, so that I y in love with the literature."
After graduating from high school, Zhao Lihong left downtown Shanghai to go to Chongming Island "insertion and settlement", simple bag in a few printed materials, there is a "Weeds". In reality, many novels tend to read the first time to feel fresh, read the second time will feel tasteless. Weeds" such a book can let Zhao Lihong "read over and over again," because reading such a book "can let you repeatedly recall, when you can taste the new flavor." At that time, Zhao Lihong thought, "If Mr. Lu Xun did not have that thick dozen books, only a thin "Weeds", he is also a great writer."
In the long years of rural "insertion and settlement", Zhao Lihong "has felt lonely and helpless, and the future is uncertain." But it is those books that Zhao Lihong spends time with, so that he changed his view of life. Under a flickering oil lamp, it was the books that accompanied him "through many warm and pleasant times", so that he "gradually enriched, enriched", but also the books "to help him choose the goal of life! "
In 1977, the first time I saw a book, it was the first time I saw a book.
In 1977, when the college entrance examination was resumed, Zhao Lihong was admitted to the Chinese Department of East China Normal University with excellent results. In the library of the university, Zhao Lihong can choose the good books like 'spring flowers and plants, as much as dazzling people. In 1981, Zhao Lihong graduated and went to work for Sprout. At that time, Zhao Lihong lived in Pudong, and it took her a long time to get to work in the city by bus, passing through the Huangpu River Tunnel every day. As "the time in the car is particularly difficult", Zhao Lihong held a good book in her hand every day, so she turned the difficult time into a pleasant moment. In the public **** car, Zhao Lihong always concentrate on reading, any noise can not interfere with his mood, even if someone squeezed him, someone pushed him, he is wooden and ignorant, because he is "hiding in the book for a pleasant trip.
He is the author of the essay collections Life Grass, Love on Earth, Mayan Mysteries, Islander's Notebook, Selected Essays of Zhao Lihong, Artwork, Rhymes of Life, Hustle and Tranquillity, The Aftermath of Death, On the Deserted Shore of Years, Reading is Forever, Dance of Aesthetics, Shadow of the Sundial, and the poetry collections Coral, Silent Holly, Lyric Poems 151, The First, and The Changing Face of Mulberry. The poems include Coral, Silent Holly, 151 Lyric Poems, City of Changes, and the reportage collection Heart Painting, etc. The four-volume Zhao Lihong's Selected Works has been published in the world. His works have won dozens of awards at home and abroad, and his prose collection Poetry Soul won the Outstanding Prose Collection Award of China's New Era, and Shadow of the Sundial won the first Bingxin Prose Award. Many of his prose works have been selected for inclusion in the language textbooks of universities, middle schools and elementary school throughout the country, as well as in Hong Kong, Singapore and Canada, and have had a wide impact on readers. Among them, "Mountain Rain" and other essays have been selected for inclusion in elementary school language textbooks.
[edit]Selected essays by Zhao Lihong
Learning to walk
Son, you can actually walk! Your mother and I will never forget this day. Before this, you were still lying in the cradle all day long, only waving your little hands and turning your big bright eyes around, sometimes occasionally able to stand up holding the edge of the bed, but for a very short time, your legs and feet were not yet strong enough to support your tiny body. That day you were surrounded by several chairs, sitting in front of the sofa and fiddling with blocks, and we went to the kitchen to get something, your mother occasionally turned around and suddenly exclaimed in surprise: "Oops, Xiaofan is walking!" I looked back with the sound and was also surprised: you had pushed away whatever was surrounding you and walked to the door on your own! When we saw you, you were standing in the doorway of your room, a look of excitement and nervousness on your face. When you saw us paying attention to you, you grinned. You seemed to be amazed that you could walk, too.
It was only four or five steps from the couch to the door of your room, and those steps meant a lot to you, the first independent walk of your life. We didn't see how you staggered, but you did walk on your own. When your mother rushed over to pick you up, you struggled and fought to get off the ground. You have tasted walking, and that tastes better than anything you have ever known in your world at this moment, and how marvelous and wonderful it is to be able to find your mother and father and get to where you want to go by walking on your own two legs!
From then on, your life takes on a whole new content and meaning from then on. Whenever you get the chance, you're going to shake off my hand and stagger your way. You walked in bed, you walked in the house, you walked on the road, you walked on the grass; you walked in search of toys, you walked to enjoy the street view from the balcony, you walked to catch up with children older than you ......
Son, you never thought that there were dangers lurking everywhere on your toddler's path. Inside the house, the corner of a table, the back of a chair, a bed frame, a door, could all become murderous weapons to bruise you. When you stumbled around the room looking for something, you either bumped into the corner of a table or knocked over a chair and hurt your foot, so it was a real precaution. You can't count the number of times you've fallen, the number of bruises and bumps you've gotten on your head, and each time you've cried and screamed, then gotten up with a teardrop on your face and continued on your way. The falls didn't dampen your eagerness to learn to walk. Outside, you were even more eager to try, your two little legs like a pair of little drumsticks, beating rhythmically against all kinds of ground. You don't seem to be interested in the flat road, wherever there is unevenness, overgrown grass, puddles and mud, you love to go. As long as you don't fall down, you're always happy to go. Is this not human nature? In your future life journey, you are bound to encounter countless twists and turns and bumps, son ah, I hope you do not lose that courage when you just learn to walk.
When you started to fall on the ground, you always crawled on the ground and stared at us with wide eyes. You felt a little bit aggrieved, but you soon got used to it and learned to get up, and then did not take the fall seriously. That time you were running along a flower bed by the side of the road and tripped over a large rock. We watched from behind you as you crashed headfirst into the railings at the edge of the flowerbed, our hearts pounding, but we couldn't save you - the railings were like sheathed swords pointing up to the sky! You crawled on the ground, silent for a moment, before letting out a cry. I ran over and held you in my arms, unable to look at your wounds, I was worried about your eyes! It was so close! The iron railing hit you right in the middle of the forehead, poking out a long and deep mouth, blood flowing down your cheeks ......
Your forehead left an indelible scar, which is the price and remembrance of your toddler.
Son, your journey has just begun, you have a long, long road ahead of you, some places may not have a road, and some places have a road, but it may not lead to the far side. The process of life is probably the process of learning to walk and searching for the road, son ah, you have to be brave to walk, down-to-earth walk.
Mountain Rain
It came suddenly -- following a gust of moist mountain wind, following a wisp of light clouds, rain, gently and quietly came. "
First, you hear its sound, coming from far away in the forest, from high up on the mountain slopes--
Sha la la, sha la la la... ...
Like a wordless song, it magically drifted up from all directions, gradually becoming clearer and louder, from far away to nearer and nearer ......
In the sound of the rain, every rock in the mountains, every leaf, and every clump of green grass turned into a marvelous and incomparable The rain is a myriad of soft and light fingers, playing one elegant song after another, each note carrying the color of fantasy.
The rain changed the color of the mountains. Under the sun, the mountains have so many layers of color that it is almost hard to recognize, there are dark green, emerald green, light green, golden yellow, and there is also a fire like red. In the rain, all the colors melted into a watery, tender green that was dazzlingly green and transparent. This fresh green seems to flow in the rain and mist, flowing into my eyes, flowing into my heart.
The green in the rain, in the painter's palette is very difficult to tune out, but as long as you have seen this watery green, it is very memorable.
I don't know when, the rain, quietly stopped. The wind, also held its breath, the mountain became very quiet. In the distance, an unknown bird began to cry, as if pouring out the joy after the bath. In the distance, cohesion in the leaves of the rain droplets continue to also drop down, drop in the roadside puddles, issued an unusually crisp sound --
Ding - winter - Ding ---winter ......
As if it were the aftermath of a mountain rain.
("Mountain Rain" has been compiled into the "People's Education" version of the "Language" sixth grade (first book) textbook)
Top Bowl Boy
"People's Education" language textbook of the "Top Bowl Boy" There are some accidental encounters, and it is difficult to forget, and haunted at times. Some things you encounter by chance can be unforgettable and haunt you from time to time. Because, you may be able to constantly get inspiration from it, and realize some philosophies of life from it.
It was more than twenty years ago. Once, I watched the acrobatic show in the open-air theater of Shanghai World, the program was wonderful, the venue was packed. Sitting in the first few rows, all the tourists from foreign countries. They were mesmerized by the beautiful oriental acrobatics. They applauded and applauded every program together with the Chinese audience.
A handsome young man came out. In the relaxed and elegant music, only to see his head on top of a high stack of gold-rimmed saffron white porcelain bowl, soft and natural stretching limbs, to make a variety of enviable movements, suddenly lying down, suddenly jumped up ...... bowl, in his head shaking, but always fall down. Finally, it is a set of difficult actions - he rode on another actor, the two people a moment to stand up, a moment to lie down, a moment to turn the body with a variety of gestures. Standing on someone else's swaying body, it was hard to keep his balance any longer, and the bowl above his head, shook terribly. In the split second of a drastic turn, the large stack of bowls suddenly fell from his head! This unexpected mistake made all the audience stunned.
There was no panic on stage. The teenager who topped the bowls smiled apologetically and bowed to the audience without missing a beat. A girl came out, swept up the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor, and then held out a large stack of bowls, still gold-rimmed, red-flowering white porcelain bowls, the whole ten, one no less. Then the music started again, and the bowls were again held high above the teenager's head. The young man calmly repeated the earlier movements, still so relaxed and beautiful, the nervous audience finally reveled in his performance. At the last moment, again two people stacked on top of each other, again one after another difficult to turn, the bowl, again in the top of his head shaking up. The audience held their breath, staring intently at the bowl above his head ...... see the body has been turned, a few anxious foreign audience can not help but clap. The stack of bowls, however, as if deliberately mischief, suddenly jumped up to sway dance. The young man hurriedly shook his head to keep his balance, but it was too late. Bowls, fell down again ......
The scene was a clamor. On the stage, the top bowl boy stood frozen, his face covered with beads of sweat, he was a little overwhelmed. Or that one girl, walked out and swept away the broken porcelain on the floor. Someone in the audience was shouting, "Okay, no more, play the next program!" A good number of people shouted in agreement. A short, sturdy, white-haired old man walked from backstage to the light, and in his hand, still in a stack of gold-rimmed, red-flowered white porcelain bowls! He walked up to the teenager, a smile on his face and no look of reproach. He handed the bowls in his hands to the teenager, then caressed the teenager's shoulder blades, gently shook a little, his mouth whispered something. The teenager calmed down, took the new bowl in hand, and bowed y to the audience again.
The music played for the third time! The arena was so quiet that there was not a single sound. There were some female audience members who simply covered their eyes with the palms of their hands ......
It was a thrilling spell! When the stack of bowls shook violently again, the teenager shook his head gently and finally stabilized the bowls. The whole room erupted in a storm of loud noises.
In later years, somehow, I often think of the bowl boy, remembering his performance; and every time I think of it, there is always a slight excitement. The bowl boy, then age and I was similar. I think. He is now a mature acrobatic artist. I believe that he will not retreat from the difficult and winding road of life and art. I believe that he is a strong man.
("The Boy with the Top Bowl" has been compiled into the "Humanistic Education" version of the "Language" of the sixth grade (the next book) textbook)
Bright heart music
In the evening, the last slanting sun through the green leaves outside the window, shone ghostly on the white wall next to my desk, at first it was a lot of dappled orange spots, like a microwave, then a lake, and then a small lake. Then darkened, darkened, the light spots from orange to dark red, and strangely condensed into two elliptical light clusters, noiselessly flickering ......
Unintentionally see a fresh image, always cause me to reverie, to the wall of the two flickering sunset glow, I froze, always think they look like What, like what?
Suddenly, my eyes flashed out a pair of eyes, a pair of little girl's eyes, a pair of dark eyes, a pair of eyes burning with the fire of hope ......
Also in the dusk of an evening sunset like fire, from the street garden to the depths of the forest, floating out a beautiful song, singing is a little girl, in the Accompanied by the accordion, she sang: "in that faraway place, the spring is flowing, the sun is singing, the heart ah, fly to that faraway place ......" song like the spring, tinkling dong dong in the twilight flow; song like the sun, in the thick shade of the depths of irradiation, saw the singing little girl, a white dress in the evening breeze, a sky blue dress in the evening wind fluttering, a sky blue dress in the evening wind, a sky blue dress in the evening wind, a sky blue dress in the evening wind, a sky blue dress in the evening wind. A white dress fluttered in the evening breeze, and a big sky-blue bow fluttered above her head as she sang. She sang so emotionally, I went face to face, she was as if she did not see, still beautifully sang: "in that distant place ......"
See her eyes, I can not help but draw a breath of cold air: a pair of what a beautiful pair of big eyes, however, long and black eyelashes, covered with a layer of gray cataracts - ah, is actually A blind girl!
I stood still, my heart trembled, how could such a beautiful, carefree song come from the mouth of a blind girl?
"...... The spring is flowing, the sun is singing ......"
The song is still floating, the blind girl intoxicated in her song, her two hands clasped into a fist, tightly against the chest, head slightly raised, as if in the faraway look at Far away: the place where clear springs flowed and sunshine floated. That place full of colorful flowers ...... From her clear and pure song, from her happy and godly smile, I seem to also see that bright and brilliant place she longed for. I know that in her longing, this faraway place is never illusory, which is enough to dispel the darkness in front of her.
Sing, blind girl, have a heart of love for the light, yearning for the light, your feet of life is not dull.
The sunset glow on the wall had long since disappeared, and the night filled my hut, but the blind girl's song, with its glittering light, rang out in my heart again.
The light of the day
No one can paint his face, but his footsteps can be heard everywhere in the world.
When the rising sun disperses the remnants of the night, when the setting sun is swallowed by the hazy horizon, he walks unhurriedly, and neither light nor darkness can change the rhythm of his march.
When the buds bloomed their moist petals in the spring breeze, when the baby reported to the world with a loud cry in the maternity ward, he walked silently, and neither laughter nor laughter could detain his footsteps,
When the withered leaves fell in the cold wind, when the dying old man swept the surrounding heaven and earth with a lingering gaze, he walked calmly and silently, and neither sighs nor sighs could make him pause!
He passes through your fingers.
He slips under the soles of your feet.
Flying past your vision and your thoughts ......
He is a marvelous and relentless carving knife, working wonders between heaven and earth. He can split boulders into dust, carve seedlings into trees, turn deserts into cities and gardens, and, of course, he can make prosperous capitals decay into desolate ruins, and make shiny metals crawl with green rust and lose their luster. He carves the wrinkles on the foreheads of old men and paints the blush on the faces of young girls. It is he who carefully directs the multiplication of life and the movement of the world.
He tore down one calendar after another on time, turning the future into the present, the present into the past, and the past into an increasingly distant history.
He is so generous that you don't have to beg; what belongs to you, he always gives as much as he can.
He is just, no matter you are as powerful as a mountain, waist ten thousand dollars, or a piece of cloth, two sleeves, he is the same. No one can take him for himself, even if you throw a lot of money, he will never give a minute.
You cherish him, he will be behind you to grow a shade of green, bear heavy fruit, you ignore him, he turned into a light smoke, dispersed without a trace.
Sometimes, a brief moment will become eternal, this is because he left his footprints deep in people's hearts.
Sometimes, the long years will become a moment, this is because the fog and sand annihilated his footprints.
Table of Contents
Years Like Water
The Gaze of the Years
Time Breaks
The Expectation of Winter
The Rise of Autumn
A Distant Countryside
Little Bird, Where Are You Flying Toward
Poetry on the Deserted Land
The Wind of Autumn.
"The Wheel of the Year"
"A Wordless Rewind"
"Beautiful Mood"
"The Unicycle"
"Tranquillity"
"Bright Heart Songs"
"Sleepwalking"
"Life is Twisting and Turning"
"Why is a Man Noble?"
"Reading is Always
The Wonderful Realm of Life
The Battle of the Wasps
The Waving of Hands
The Encounter with a Ghost
Literature, with a Young Heart
Mozart's Visit
Farewell to the Piano
Dark Eyes
Something Else
The Autumn Tree
The Autumn Tree
The Autumn Tree
The Autumn Tree
The Autumn Tree
The Autumn Tree
The Autumn Tree
The Autumn Tree
Autumn Trees
Frost Flowers
Biting Grass
Peacock Plume
O Land
Tears for the Stones
Hantau Horse Head
Embroidery Eyes and Hibiscus
Donkey in Lamentation
A Puppy on the Journey and I
"Strange Encounters on the Silk Road"
"Five Spills in the Rain"
"The Mountain Has a Soul and Eight Faces"
"Flowers in the Sky, Dreams in the Lake"
"The Waters of the Yellow River"
"Afterword"
"A Door Opens for You"
"The Grass of Life"
"Love in the World"
"Love in the Earth"
The Mystery of the Maya
Notes of an Islander
The Art of Art
The Rhythm of Life
Coral
Silent Holly
Painting from the Heart
I Used to Ask the Cuckoo
Morning and Evening in Nojilang. Zhao Lihong is such a writer. Looking back, so many occasions to see Zhao Lihong, conference speeches or exchanges between friends, he is always soft-spoken and slow, narrated, never saw him rambling, mouth like a river. He is always listening more than talking, ordinary heart more than very heart. His person and his writing are so consistent: sincere, fresh, poetic, lyrical, but also deep, long. If you read his prose with your heart, you can feel his worries and his longing and his hope. One after another, I received four new books from Zhao Lihong: "The Soul's Homeland", "Light and Fog in Memory", "The Summer of Ermitage" published at the end of last year, and "The Pot is Broken, the Poem is Still Here", which just came out in February this year. Reading through the four beautifully bound collections of essays, I was amazed at the author's writing energy. --Since becoming president of Shanghai Literature Magazine, Zhao Lihong has been running around for the magazine's survival and development, thinking that it would be difficult for him (at least in the near future) to have the energy to take care of his writing. "But I'm still a writer, reading and creating are still my main business, and that won't change." Zhao Lihong said with a smile. Read Zhao Lihong prose, whether it is "broken pots, poems are still in", and the literary world seniors, peer friends, or deep or shallow, or long or short interactions with the memorial; or "the soul of the hometown" in the immersion of art, searching for, reading; or "memory of the light and fog", those wonderful flashes, ripples, soaring swim ...... a strong impression is "True". Sincere, real, authentic. He said: "When the pandering voice is all over the place, your murmuring and singing may be looked at sideways, you can give yourself up, you can amplify or change your voice, shouting with a strange but fashionable voice, which is also a kind of freedom. Some people may applaud you, but you will destroy yourself in the sound of applauding. How sad it is to lose sincerity!" Zhao Lihong appreciates such a state, so he regards "tranquility leads to distance" as his motto. Modern society has too many desires, he always reminds himself to hold a normal heart. Meaningfully, the more noisy the crowd, the more the soul, sincerity, conscience and such words do not care to mention, the more people long for the soul of the outpouring of desire to get the echo of sincerity. Read Zhao Lihong's prose, it has become a lot of people's **** Ming, including many people in the literary world, familiar and unfamiliar with literature lovers. They wrote to Zhao Lihong, pouring out their moving, yearning and doubt. Life Zhao Lihong, like to listen to music, like to appreciate painting, sculpture, architecture ...... He has written two books about music essays "Mozart's visit" and "speechless gyrations". He said, with a free heart to appreciate listening to music, music will splash crystal waves in the mind; can use their own words to pour out their feelings about music, for a writer, is a kind of happiness. He has also written two books related to painting and fine arts, "The Haze of Ermitage" and "Soaring in the Starry Sky of the Soul". In life, Zhao Lihong also pursues the same realm as his predecessors: reading thousands of books and traveling thousands of miles. Reading is a daily homework. For a while, he had to read Remembering the Dead Years every night, and found it a pleasure to walk into Proust's dream world. Traveling is his second hobby after music. He has visited many countries and cities around the world, the ancient Mayan city in the twilight, the pyramids in the wilderness, the Museum of Man in Mexico, in front of the bronze statue of Pushkin and his former residence, in front of the theater in St. Petersburg, in front of the theater, in Dostoev's living room, the path in the birch forests, the Hermitage late at night, and in the rain in Kiev ...... He said: "This vast world in which we live, even if I were to spend my whole life, I could not go all over it." But then he not without yearning named one of his collections of essays "I want to walk everywhere in the world".