He left before he really came in. His expression seemed to have just gone through a tense and sensitive cloud, and it almost exploded when it touched him.
Some clouds exist to shed tears, and some clouds exist to explode. The explosion exists in every moment like the truth, covering up time and appearing unrelated to itself. I lay on the ground convulsing, and something gently bent down and picked me up. I knew the moment that thing had a thought. Because of its fragility, there was no defense to establish. A kind of completely occupied and gentle gaze. It is I who need it, not it who needs me. The conspiracy-style self-exile flashes in every part of me.
The uncontrolled observer remains calm in panic. It says: This has already been foretold. You are far from being able to gaze at it in balance.
The mountain today seems a bit cold and stern. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it's not completely wrong, there is still a part that is correct, projected.
Hide.
Cast my shadow in the projection.
Usually I think shadows don't have shadows, but under the backdrop of this blue, the fading of layers of shadows in the shadows, shaking.
The edges seem a bit hot, as if they have been rubbing in a certain space for a long time, becoming smooth, like the ripples on the lake surface swaying in the breeze in the dark night, rippling with red.
I don't have a special place to go, just walking in a mediocre way. Hide in the flow of daily life. There doesn't seem to be anything special to pay attention to. Passing through some villages, talking to people in a plain way, eavesdropping on some local words, sitting on the sofas I encounter.
I don't need your love and sharing
The sun and the wild grass form their own series
Just talking about coming to explore you
But you are blind
Can't see the dust floating in the air
What's the benefit of this
The monk seemed to have grown out of the ground, and the hair on the back of his hand trembled slightly in the wind. He felt that what was in front of him was not an animal but a plant. The monk enveloped him and the inch of land under his feet. He lowered his head and put all his anger into silence, sending it to the contact surface between the soles of his feet and the ground. The restlessness was emptied, leaving only the shape lingering in the air.
Taking the train from the south to the north, the whole island was raining. The north was even worse, and the rain even penetrated the roof of the bus stop. There were small snakes swimming on the road, and I couldn't see what I was stepping on in the shallow water. The umbrella I brought with me was broken and couldn't be repaired. I borrowed a blue umbrella from the people I stayed with, just enough to cover my head. The glasses were also covered with water droplets, making it impossible to see the road after dark. Fortunately, I didn't bring my phone, and if I did, I would have to hang it up. I remember that the white temple can reach the place where I live. The next day, I washed my wet clothes, and after the sun dried them, it started raining again in less than twenty minutes.
How slow will we be
You always dream of not having enough time
The old kitchen knife has a gap
Completely blunt there
The body passed by the soul, sitting on a square stone bench outside the Jain temple, and the morning sun shone out from behind the gray building only twenty or thirty meters high. The bench she was sitting on was in the shade, and a yellow dog with a broken tail lazily lay on the stone bench where a little sunlight shone. It was familiar with this place.
A fly landed on the untouchable's back.
The concrete person is dressed in white and enters their exquisitely crafted temple.
His gaze follows the birds and crows in the sky, and the planes roaring low in the sky, as if he is their lost companion.
Falling into the world, becoming a body that has nothing.
When it's cold, I think of us in the summer night with cicadas singing. The ancient gods took their own eyelashes and made them into brooms to sweep away the charm of original sin. Rustle, can you hear it, rustle. He will understand you, like I understand my shadow. It falls where the gods kill, crows rise into the sky, and ants flow out in all directions. I am just one of the followers.
Inside my nose is so sticky! It's dry outside. My brain is a mess, why did I wake up on such a hot day? Waking up is a mess, like a dream suddenly having an illusion, solidifying... I want to write every word that passes by in capital letters, write big! Otherwise, I will tremble and twist my butt in this mess, and fall down at any time... Or in a crowd, confusedly evaporating!
Ah, why am I always confused... Shouldn't I be shining in my dreams... milky way... why has it turned into a lump... of light... so much light... trapped in the light... open your eyes... quickly collapse... pull the curtains, hurry! My pillow, my sun, look at my body burning on this cool mat, lift up the corner of this mess, shake it, throw it into the darkness!
The contradiction between function and desire of the illegitimate child of the universe, my lover... the wind and rain are raging... my neck is sore, did you sleep with a stiff neck? When you are asleep, do you feel your own neck? The badminton shuttlecock flies in the air, and the light feathers can be beaten when they are stacked... You twist your stiff neck and stare at the beaten feathers, and at this moment, can't even the wind make you doubt?
Struggling to get up in the mess, wrapped in white liquid, like a pure angel, like a prostitute who accompanies soldiers after their service. This moment may be the most important moment, because a tear flows from the corner of the eye. Surrounded by more dazzling light, everything is lost, except for dreams, I can't establish any connection. I don't know if my father is still just in his dreams, and I don't know if the voices emitted by the electricity in his bedroom cannot be imaged in his mind. I heard that many people have this problem.
A year or two ago, when I was away, he came to find me. We met in a strange place, surrounded by roaring viaducts and glass-walled high-rise buildings, without restaurants or convenience stores. We kept walking, getting lost. He said, my mother unplugged the TV in the bedroom, so he had to sleep in the living room. They have been like this for several months, and in his tone, it seems that he has lost the right to have a precious treasure, full of regret and resentment. After a while, it seemed that he wanted to regain something, and said, your mother is actually very great. The surrounding buildings are growing rapidly with a cold pace, inserting into the sky straight and stiff. I know a professor, I said, his wife is Japanese, and they sleep in separate rooms, there is nothing wrong with that. He nodded and said, your aunt doesn't think so, she jumped up when she knew about it.
Aunt? In the forest by the highway that night, she locked me and my mother in a wooden house, lit a fire in the stove, and the room was brightly lit. Aunt pressed my mother on the long wooden table, tied her up and planned to burn her, I kept screaming, struggling with her, snatched a bloody knife and cut the rope to save my mother, and left her and the wooden house behind and set it on fire, this devil-like woman had died in my childhood dreams. Distant dreams are as real as memories, and the crime of murder is so scorching that I am choked by a thick smoke, and my chest cannot pass through a trace of gas. 30 seconds, I squat down, open my thin collar, expose my chest, and make a breathing motion desperately, despair makes me think of death in an instant, this idea is weak and ridiculous, I relax in self-contempt. A trace, a trace, another trace. The poisonous snake slowly passes through my mouth, chest, abdomen, and pelvis. Rhythm, yes, rhythm. Good. With the blue needle-stabbing penmanship, this dance is over.
The person who should support me has lost his way and is looking for the way out, leaving this ghost place.
I feel that I always need to write it down, otherwise everything I have experienced will become like things in the past, turning into a rotting corpse that emits a foul smell, plundering every new beginning in my every morning, and plundering every ending in my every night.
What a loss to bear one's own confusion? In searching or not searching, this is something to face. I am afraid like a frightened deer.
The pain is overwhelming. I can't stop the action of searching, and I can't ask if this really makes sense. Such a futile question.
The old man started singing. His voice was like a long and winding vine, connecting memories and searches tightly.
I think of my grandfather, I miss him, to the point where I have to say it now, say it, say it, but I have lost the object.
Your mind, blurred and intense.
Don't form sentences, don't form.
Lines, patterns, unknown, pauses, confusion, doubt.
Continue to pause.
Stop?
Willing.
I'm willing.
Living in the unformed.
Under the edge.
Exile life and exile myself from life.
"You go in first."
The black curtains in the room were not hung properly, and one-third of the connecting track fell off, swaying in the wind, like an injured bird unable to flap its wings. The lower third that couldn't resist the pressure brought by gravity made a sound of plastic colliding with metal, which seemed too muddy compared to the clear sky, but the transition gradually slowed down and raised regular folds, occasionally revealing a little bit of the outside scenery, a persimmon tree in winter that lost all its green leaves and fruits, and the silver and cold railing.
She sat in the middle of the pure white bed sheet, hugging her legs, staring at the flickering scenery, those bare branches, without the agility of being caressed by the breeze in the summer, and no longer the red persimmons occupying the branches with great power, but like an old man whose oil has run out, trembling stubbornly.
In a strange frequency of sluggishness, her body swayed slightly, and she extended her cold fingers to take off her socks and collar. The curtains still couldn't escape the downward obstacle, like eyelids that couldn't resist drowsiness slowly revealing a little white of the eyes, and then unable to control it, slowly stagnating. The gray pajamas and underwear gradually faded away. In the damp and cold breeze, she slowly embarked on a naked and primitive journey, and the destination gradually became clear in the trembling of the mist.
Tiny bald branches began to crawl onto the dusty windowsill, reaching in, bit by bit, as if trying to reach something but unable to reach it, bit by bit, with a murky body, with extreme thirst. She suddenly saw these unexpected guests in the deepest part of the room. Although the bald branches stopped advancing at this time, they were like thieves who were discovered and stuck at an embarrassing moment. 1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 3 and 1/3 seconds, 4 and 1/2 seconds, 5 seconds, 7 seconds, time was shaky, and the trembling frequency gradually overlapped, and the creatures in the mist-she, her eyelashes, fingertips, twisting ankles, and faded toenails, bald branches, sharp holes on the branches, and their branches and twigs unexpectedly gained a consistent life. In an instant, the translucent liquid went from solidification to liberation, flowing from one entity to another.
She excitedly opened her arms to welcome these organs that shared the same soul with her at this moment, and the bald branches opened their eyes and saw the focus, and excitedly accelerated their advance. The top of the head quickly approached the outstretched fingertips, and pierced straight into the smoky yellow nail cap, the dusty and muddy nail gap.
The piercing pain occurred only when the branches extended to the palm of the hand, and the wind pushed more and thicker bald branches towards the swollen curtain, joining this feast. They-the wind and her, together from shouting to howling, howling-howling-howling, with the branches passing through her arms, neck, and spreading in different directions. The pain surged like waves, converged, and accumulated strength to burst out again and again, gathering together to madly intertwine and merge the two entities, leaving no gaps. The translucent liquid penetrated her blood vessels, and the cells were busy reconstructing like bright lights in the dark.
Suddenly, a green sprout grew out of the network of her nerve endings, and everything had to disappear sadly and scattered.