Hong Chao, Class 1, Tonghe High School, Baoshan District, Shanghai 20043 1
In the drizzle, under the umbrella, faces are waiting, and the gentle voice of Huangpu River seems to be telling. Reflected in the eyes of Shanghai residents staring at their necks, full of rich historical feelings, Waibaidu Bridge went home. Without this and other bridges with memories, Shanghai's cultural memory will be broken to some extent, and we can't fully interpret this city named "Shanghai".
I have seen buildings with different styles deleted and washed by time and space, felt exquisite pavilions and fantasized about their once enviable prosperity. Then, I will feel very gratified that the changes of the times will not change the vicissitudes of cultural background, and the memory of the city will, as always, be engraved in precious historical buildings.
It was not until I witnessed a small building that was left out in the cold that I realized that I was wrong. The symbol of a city is its collective memory. Without the solid support of historical review and past respect, it is impossible to diagnose and treat the "amnesia" of the younger generation, and the construction of urban memory will inevitably fall apart because of cultural roots.
Grandma lives in this ever-changing town, and still retains a small building that records the memory of the city. However, what I see is forgetting. In addition to forgetting, or forgetting.
"Small super, where to travel with a camera? Let's go to Qingjingtang to find the game disk. It's pirated and very cheap. "
"Oh, this, I want to know about the history of Anqing. By the way, cousin, do you know where the ruins of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom Palace are? And that ... "
"Don't know! Who cares about this? However, the spring garden in the city center is very green, and there are artificial mountains. Recently, the water park inside has been added with "Rapids". Otherwise, we will play again this afternoon? "
Declined my cousin's invitation, I bought a map of a small town, which was already dim and dusty, under the eyes of the old man in the newsstand who was slightly surprised, and seemed to be wandering around.
I visited several rare historical memorial halls and dragged the periphery of the community with a narrow alley. In Shi Zhuan, the sunken crevices are covered with black mud and nothing grows. The rugged alleys have long been leveled and swished by people. Small clumps of dark bush branches protrude from the corner of the alley. The broad and thick leaves have long been blackened by the increasingly serious waste gas in the town, attached to the slender branches with snake fruit, showing bright red color through the dust, adding a bit of strangeness.
What is striking is a low stone wall, and a dilapidated small building is crowded in the southwest corner of this ancient city. Like an old man covered in dirt, the walls are mottled, revealing gray-blue bricks with greasy stains on them.
I glanced at it casually and walked around the building. Suddenly I bumped into a hard object on my knee, which was very painful. Impressively, it was a small stone tablet. I just want to turn around and pass by A line of light green fine print attracted me: "Anqing key cultural relics protection unit-Xiong uprising site, huh?" In the joy, I vaguely remembered the broken history of this small town that was almost forgotten in modern times.
Xiong was an outstanding revolutionary activist and one of the pioneers of the Revolution of 1911 in China during the old democratic revolution. He led the Anqing New Army Uprising in1908165438+10/9, which inspired revolutionary intellectuals to join the army, oppose feudalism and imperialism. Unfortunately, he was secretly arrested by the Manchu government in Harbin on June 29th, 19 10, and told the people in the execution ground: "If I die, I would like to follow more people!" These powerful last words show the unyielding backbone of the people of China.
This period of history has long passed, and this humble small stone tablet has long been submerged in the noise, singing the song of the Chinese nation's self-improvement alone. I look up at this small building with longing. In the long and persistent persistence, a row of closed iron gates alone with too much corrupt and enterprising dust, covered up the original vigorous facade and cast a wave of forgotten gray. After no one has passed by, the wall has already developed a faint brown color. But there is no spider web, clean, old and strong.
What a small building. It is so ordinary, almost languishing on the edge of a small town, but it has the pride of despising the secular and showing ugliness and charm. It burns in the brow of rows of thick iron beams, and it remains in the records of short stone tablets that have been symbolically erected by the cultural relics department. It has long lost its luster, but it still sticks to the scattered stone steps in front of the door and penetrates deeply.
I, stretched out my hand, in order to pay homage to this last hope that I was unwilling to fall with the years for a long time and would not give up waiting. Its rough skin makes me feel the thick history. It was a colorful time with regrets. Just because time is cruel and better.
My hands are covered with some black sticky dust. Reluctantly, I moved my hand away and looked up at the lonely building again, the forgotten years. Don't make public before death, don't be affected afterwards, don't be whitewashed by future generations, don't be concerned by the world, and don't be bitter after being forgotten. It just silently carries the history, inherits the past and looks forward to the future. But it is worthy of itself and self-affirmation.
Liang Yong 'an, a professor at Fudan University, once said: "A city with a memory and a' before me, where are those lost years' will certainly not create spiritual latecomers. "Imagine how much glory a city with a pale historical memory will lose under the copy and paste of a strong culture!
The long history of the small town is the luck of the small town; The neglect of the residents of the town is the most unfortunate and unforgettable memory of the town! After all, urban memory is not an individual, and it can't be an individual. Inheriting all kinds of joys and sorrows, all kinds of urban memories, will not let the symbols of urban characteristics be shelved coldly, forgotten and become the shoddy work of the same lost source.
Because of the persistent memory, it touched the bones of the years.
Because of unyielding memory, I pay tribute to the witnesses whose years have been remembered.
Because of the painful memory of the world, I understand that we should not and cannot forget the existence of urban memory.
Everything, just because the symbol of the city is memory,
Later, I wrote a letter and sent it to the cultural relics protection unit in the small town. Then I got on the train back to Shanghai. The smell of spring is still there. Looking at the distant scenery, I smiled knowingly but with a bitter smile. I don't know if my letter has any effect, but I firmly believe it can.