Chasing autumn

  Please find an old mottled candlestick, light a joss stick, and listen to me talk about memories related to autumn. When this joss stick is lit, my story will be over.
  Autumn in the ancient capital is faint, so faint that it only leaves a small ripple in my heart, without even igniting a spray, it is as faint as a thin cloud haze in front of my eyes, dissipating In time. Sitting in the airport lobby, the little girl next to me said to me easily: “I have been there for four years. There is no spring and autumn in my hometown, only winter and summer.” There was a smile on her mouth, but her eyes were already foggy. Diffuse.
  After sending her away, I was sitting in the taxi alone, and the weight of autumn in my hometown seemed a little heavier. People are always like this. Only when they are lost can they be cherished. I asked the driver master to park the car on the side of the road, wanting to take a closer look at that autumn, to see that there is no spring breeze for ten miles, no lotus in the sun, and no mediocre autumn with white snow.
  It’s a pity that the street I walked did not have red maple that symbolizes autumn, and there was no chrysanthemum known as the “Four Gentlemen of Flowers”. There are many trees beside the gray concrete streets, not neat street trees, but various trees unique to the community, silently looking at each other in the residual rain. I squatted down and threw the umbrella beside me. The sparse raindrops fell on my shoulders and between my eyebrows. I closed my eyes and listened to the trembling of the phoenix trees. Next to the parasol tree is the ginkgo tree. Someone told me that ginkgo is a very ancient tree species. It has experienced vicissitudes in the vicissitudes of the vicissitudes. It has seen it like a dream like a magical moon, if it leaves a flower, heard about Suzhou Pingtan on the Qinhuai River, and tasted thousands of flavors in the world. In today’s world there is no dispute, quiet and indifferent. The golden fan fell from the branches and whirled in the shallow puddles: the first lap, do not be surprised, and watch the flowers bloom and fall in front of the court; the second lap, leave unintentionally, the clouds roll and relax in the sky; Three laps, reincarnation of the world, destiny, everything is destined… A small leaf seems to see through life. I walked idle in the rain, and came across a tree with flowers in the corner. The little yellow flower on the tree seemed uncontested, but in fact it was extremely arrogant, and tried his best to make the world smell it and praise her for its fragrance. I didn’t like this kind of temper very much, but thinking about the sachet under the pillow and the sweet-scented osmanthus cake made by grandma, I forgave her for her passion.
  The hometown of Qiuben is mediocre, so naturally there is nothing to say. I took the time to write it down, but it was just for the northern geese flying south and the wanderers leaving the ancient capital.
  At the end of autumn, I was alone on the sofa, enjoying the leisure I had stolen for half a day. The instant coffee on the table was steaming, and a faint aroma filled the room. People always have some small hobbies. For example, I have been obsessed with old things since I was young. Compared to network TV, I prefer the old disc player; compared to CD, I prefer the tapes that record Demo; compared to the pop music, I prefer the unknown folk songs; compared to the hot summer , I prefer autumn that exudes ancient flavor.
  ”Autumn Fairy Tale” was playing on TV. I have watched the movie many times, and I was so bored that I simply plunged myself into a wild dream about autumn. Speaking of autumn, the first thing I thought of was Lin Daiyu’s “Autumn Window and Stormy Evening” in “A Dream of Red Mansions”: “Autumn flowers are bleak and autumn grass is yellow, and Geng Geng Qiuqiu lights and autumn nights are long. I feel that autumn windows and autumn are endless. The wind and rain help the desolation!” The whole poem seems to write about the desolation of autumn, but in fact it is writing about the situation of “three hundred and sixty days a year, the wind, the sword, the frost and the sword are pressing each other”, and the helplessness under the fence indicates that After all, he could not escape the tragic fate of “Lengyue Buried Flower Soul”. They all say “Autumn wind and autumn rain are sorrowful”. In this bleak season, who can write a verse like “All night lights are like weaving people, a group of singing is ecstatic”? I would also think of Yu Dafu, the romantic talent who wrote “Autumn in the Old Capital”. He not only writes about autumn, but he also has a lot of autumn breath. Yu Dafu’s decadence of Meng Lang is more like the odd person in his writings, incompatible with this world, and repeatedly sinking into a drunken fan. I will also think of the woman who is as pure and calm as autumn-Zhou Xun. Some time ago, I went to the theater to watch the movie “Hello, Zhihua” directed by Shunji Iwai and starring Zhou Xun. Zhou Xun under the movie lens is no longer the spring-like delicate and smart Xiao Taiping in “Daming Palace Ci”. The corners of her eyes have fine lines, like a rain of autumn with a touch of sadness, but there is no complaint. With innate peace. She didn’t seem to be acting. The Yuan Zhihua who was a little inferior and awkward in front of her crush, and Yuan Zhihua who was relieved after years of panning seemed to be Zhou Xun himself. As at the end of the film, Zhihua and others read the passage in different scenes: “Some people can only be passeders-by, and some things can only be regarded as memories.” Autumn is about to end, and the people they met in those three months happened. All things drifted away with the autumn wind, and all he could hold in his hand was just a piece of frosty leaves.
  That fall, I cut off the long hair that had been with me for a long time. The short hair barely covered my ears, and a small piece of cyan scalp was exposed at the top of my neck; that fall, I met a man who kept my long hair under the bridge. The singer with hair and a spatholobi bracelet, he sang to me “Spring malt turns into autumn wine…”; that autumn, the wind was slanting and the rain was swaying, I took a picture of an acacia tree with my camera The joy of the tree.
  Now that autumn is about to go, let us ride the train of time, pass through the cold winter, and then experience spring and summer, in the cycle of four seasons, to chase the next autumn day.