me and Ditan ① (excerpt)

Shi Tiesheng?

If there are some things I haven't said, Ditan, don't think that I have forgotten. I haven't forgotten anything, but some things are only suitable for collection. Can't say, can't think, but can't forget. They can't become languages, they can't become languages, and once they become languages, they are no longer them. They are a hazy warmth and loneliness, a mature hope and despair, and their territory has only two places: the heart and the grave. For example, some stamps are used to send letters, and some are just for collection.

Now I'm rocking my bike and walking slowly in this garden, and I often feel that I've been playing alone for too long. One day I sorted out my old photo album and saw a photo I took in this garden more than ten years ago-the young man was sitting in a wheelchair with an old cypress tree behind him and the ancient altar in the distance. I went to the garden to look for the tree. I looked for it according to the background in the photo and soon found it. I looked for it according to the shape of its branches in the photo, and I was sure it was it. But it is already dead, and there is a vine with a thick bowl around it. One day I met an old lady in this garden. She said, "Hey, are you still here?" She asked me, "How is your mother?" "Who are you?" "You don't remember me, but I remember you. Once your mother came to see you here, and she asked me if you saw a child rocking a wheelchair. ..... "I suddenly feel that I have been playing in this world alone for too long. One night, I sat alone on the altar, covering an area of several hundred square meters, facing the sky. I couldn't see the man who played the suona, but the suona sang in the starry night sky, sometimes sad and cheerful, sometimes lingering and sometimes desolate. Perhaps these words were not right to describe it. I woke up clearly and heard it ringing in the past, now, at the end, and now.

one day, I will hear someone calling me back.

at that time, you can imagine a child. He is tired of playing, but he hasn't had enough. Many novel ideas in his heart can't wait until tomorrow. You can also imagine an old man, undoubtedly walking towards his resting place and working hard. You can also imagine a pair of lovers in love, saying "I don't want to leave you for a moment" to each other again and again, and saying "It's getting late" to each other again and again. It's getting late, but I don't want to leave you for a moment. After all, it's getting late.

I don't know if I want to go back. I can't say whether I want to or not, or it doesn't matter. I can't say whether I am like that child, like that old man, or like a lover in love. Probably so: I'm all three of them at the same time. When I came, I was a child. He had so many childish thoughts that he cried and cried for leisure. As soon as he saw the world, he immediately became a desperate lover. For a lover, no matter how long the time was, it was fleeting. At that time, he understood that every step was actually on the way back to the cloud. When the morning glory first blooms, the horn of the rude ceremony has already sounded.