Distressing things include:
discarding books. I bought the books one by one, but I didn’t like it later, or because the bookcase really couldn’t fit in, some of it had to be filtered out. At that time, I would squat in the study, rubbing the books one by one, and then gritted his teeth, cruelly putting some books in the trash can. There are also some books, knowing that they will not turn over again, but suddenly abandoned them and reluctant, so they temporarily moved to the floor, piled up layer by layer, waited for the cocoon in my heart to thicken, and then took out the ferocious appearance of killing pigs. Come, come and discard. Even so as to pave the way for my ruthlessness, every time I give it up, I feel guilty and regretful.
I heard people say to kill cattle. I haven’t seen cattle killing, but I heard my father and uncles talk about it. Once in my childhood, there was also a buffalo in our village, which was raised collectively and used for farming. Every farming season, that cow is really hard! One family’s fields were turned over, and the next family was immediately followed. Sometimes at four or five o’clock in the morning, they were led to the fields and dragged the plow until the dark moon came up. A cow is responsible for turning over the fields in a village. In busy farming seasons, every family is waiting for planting, so naturally the cow cannot rest for a while. Cows turn over the fields, year after year, and when they are old and unable to carry a plow, they will be taken to the slaughterhouse. The father said that when the old cow they had raised before was about to be taken away for slaughter, the cow refused to leave the house. When everyone dragged the old cow out, the cow cried. The uncle said that in the slaughterhouse, the cow would kneel to the butcher, and the cow thought he would beg to escape the butcher knife. It is said that before the butcher kills the cow, he will blindfold the cow’s eyes, and perhaps people dare not look into those loyal and weeping family eyes. Now, it is said that the method of killing cows is not the same as before. The current method is more cruel. I can’t bear to mention it.
The old is so dull. In the past, when I was a girl, I had a good sister, so that she would go to her house during vacation, eat and sleep in her house, wear her clothes, and use her face towel. After graduation, I haven’t seen each other for more than 20 years.
Grey hair is seen in the mirror. Wrinkles are born little by little, a little bit of “dive into the night with the wind, moisturizing things silently”, it is not difficult to accept. However, every white hair was suddenly discovered in the mirror, like Yuyang Kui in agitated, breaking the neon clothes and feathers, and tomorrow will be peaceful, but it will be a rebel. No matter how hot the heart is, it will cool down in front of a white hair that suddenly appears.
The flowers bloom to their fullest. When the flowers bloom to the most luxuriant and splendid, they are the most beautiful and the most dangerous. Xiangmei was climbing step by step, and finally reached the edge of the cliff, turned around and broke her bones. When I was young, when I saw the flowers blooming, my heart shook with it. Now, in the spring passing under those flowering branches, the more you look at them, the more cautious you are for the flowers. Reluctant to open the flower, I always hope it opens a bit slower, a bit quieter, and a bit stingy.
Only once, never again. There are many places, many scenery, have been here, I know in my heart, this life will probably not come again. So is love.
Listen to the cuckoo cry at night. When the cuckoo sings, it’s spring dusk, the flowers are mostly withered, and the summer leaves have not been bustling on the branches. The season suddenly vacated a space between the flowers and the leaves, like a gap, like an omission. , There is inexplicable anxiety in my heart. In late spring or early summer, in the night when the moonlight and dew are shining, I heard a cuckoo cry outside the window, the plain sentence, one sound is near, another sound is far away, like a lonely troubadour in a foreign country On the lonely journey.
The rice paper is dirty with dust. The rice paper was spread on the desk by the window, and I was reluctant to use it. It rained one day and the window was not closed. I got up in the morning and saw a layer of mud on the rice paper, which leaked in through the screen window. I thought of Miaoyu in “A Dream of Red Mansions”, who was originally the daughter of a scholarly family, lonely and clean, but was finally stepped into the mud.
It is distressing for the good to be hurt and the good to be destroyed.
Distressing things include: