Recommended writer Peng Yilin's "Encountering Flowers, Encountering Dreams, Encountering Old People"
Encountering Flowers, Meeting Dreams, Meeting Old People
Peng Yilin
I met rock osmanthus blooming and jianlan blooming along the way.
Yellow and red bloom slowly against the cold dew of the season.
Just like an energetic young man, he charges into battle and is a fearless pioneer.
Actually, I am not a person who is obsessed with flowers.
For those flowers that bloom in the mountains and streams, I only feel the fragrance, but I can’t name them at all.
Many times, when I am walking around and watching the flowers, my whole body is filled with mist and my mind is in a trance.
The most beloved one, or in other words, the one that can stir up the most ripples in the soul, is still the rose, the kind of eternal alliance that lasts forever and has nothing to do with the poet's feelings;
I used to pay attention to the Blue Enchantress, Douglas, and Diana.
I once traveled around mountains and rivers for them, but now I feel boundless when I revisit my old place.
I can’t think of a reason to stay. Maybe it’s just that the water flowing eastward is gone and the leaves fall back to the remaining clouds.
The gloomy weather is accompanied by the drizzle of rain, which moistens the heart bit by bit.
I sit on a bench in the park like Forrest Gump, thinking quietly and chatting with strangers.
When I ask them about the relationship between life and chocolate, there will always be one The answer struck me like lightning.
Then I comforted myself and said to myself, I understood that I have two selves.
Mom said, life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what the next piece will taste like.
I said, I don’t want to try chocolate, I like hawthorn slices and chewing gum.
My friend is right, there are some things that you don’t need to pay too much attention to,
So wait alone on the bench to see if the next stranger is Godot.
Occasionally, I will receive text messages in twos and threes. The numbers are unfamiliar. They may be old people who have been there for many years and I can’t remember their names.
“In the eyes of those who pass by without entering the city, the city looks one way; in the eyes of those who are trapped in the city and do not come out, it has another look;
When people first arrive, the city looks one way, but when people leave forever, it looks different. Every city should have its own name;
Maybe I have used it. Other names have spoken of Elaina; maybe the cities I have spoken of are all just Elaina."
I often tell myself late at night: I hope to be elegant and indifferent, to be unfazed by favors and humiliations, to be a traveling monk, and to live a minimalist life. .
However, I am often sad, often noisy, and shed tears because of the broken pieces.
As a human being, is your most vicious enemy yourself?
Do you have to wait until the cups and plates are in a mess and the sky is dark to feel that this body is drifting away?
Those all-encompassing desires are like sand and water flowing through the fingers.
Pure life is to let go of your hands, let the sand in your fists scatter into the soil, and let the clear water flow back into the rivers.
Care less, covet less, dwell less on right and wrong...
Tossing and turning, I fell asleep in a hazy state in the early morning.
In the dream, she was already gray-haired, facing the white snow and frost, wearing a white dress.
And I stood on the dark window sill, the curtains were black, my long hair was black, my eyes were wandering and lost.
I dreamed that she was talking to me but I couldn’t hear a word clearly. I dreamed that she walked into the house and turned on the lamp.
I dreamed of a room full of lost friends, holding colorful candies.
The warm arms wrapped around my waist, still a familiar posture, but I couldn't respond.
The cool breeze outside slowly blows into the windowsill, and it is the fragrance of roses.
Dream about her skin, fragrant and fragrant, adorned with scars.
Dream that she no longer likes to eat home-cooked tofu.
I dreamed that she said, send me a letter, it will be at Butterfly Villa.
I dreamed that she was practicing Taoism in Zhongnan Mountain, walking to a waterless place, and sitting down to watch the clouds rise.
There is no choice but the flowers fall away, and the familiar swallow returns.
In the dream, I knew that I had been dreaming, but I just didn’t want to wake up.
I don’t know when this situation will happen again.
After dreaming at midnight, the stars were dotted, and I got up to water the flowers upstairs.
Suddenly I saw the lights in the neighbor's room were also on, and there were mottled figures near and far away.