Who is it, holding a purplish oiled paper umbrella, walking through the sentimental rain lane to the depths of the smoke, leaving only cloves floating in the rain and fog; Who is it, standing under the old eaves, leaning against the wooden door, staring at the depths of ancient incense, waiting for the beloved, waiting for the flowers to wither, waiting for people to be thinner than yellow flowers, looking at autumn water, sitting alone, and finally not returning to people; Who is it, wandering in the long alley for a long time along the old dreams, salvaging the past and trying to find some vague stories and time? ...
I don't know why I have such an unfathomable nostalgia complex and why I like those antiques so much. Ancient costumes, classical costumes, old buildings, old towns, old villages, old houses with white walls and black tiles, ancient city walls with black and white, Buddhist temples with upturned cornices, carved wooden windows with moss growing, stone arch bridges standing tall in the wind, frost, rain and snow, deep courtyards with hidden doors and, most importantly, long Gu Xiang.
Every time I walk into a long alley and walk on a flat and quiet stone road, I always feel deja vu. I always feel that I have been here and lived, and I always feel that I have lost something valuable in the alley. This kind of Gu Xiang once had thousands of dreams, and some were real and unreal, confusing, and even after waking up, he was still immersed in such an illusory maze for a long time.
I think those deep and narrow Gu Xiang must have left my old dreams and engraved the extraordinary stories of my past lives. Old dreams are unforgettable, and the past is vague. So every time I get close to them in my life, the softness in my heart will rush in, and the familiarity of meeting an old friend will haunt my whole body and mind. I don't know if countless encounters in my dream are a kind of first encounter or a kind of reunion. Perhaps, in my previous life, the Republic of China was really stormy. In an ancient town, there was a beautiful woman and a beloved man in a deep courtyard. Those alleys left us clinging to each other, and those mossy green bluestone roads printed our love words. Maybe one day, I accidentally left my promise in an alley and never found it again, so that I always wanted to go through this life.
Where there are historical vicissitudes, there will be ancient towns, where there are ancient towns, there will be old crow trees, where there are old crow trees, there will be floating people, and where there are floating people, there will be one ancient alley after another. If small bridges and flowing water are the soul of the ancient city, then those deep and quiet Gu Xiang are her darling. It is these long windy and smoky alleys that give life to the ancient city, so that the massiness and vicissitudes of history can be carried forward and passed down from generation to generation.
I have seen so many landscapes, crossed so many rivers and bridges, and I will never forget the impression of the ancient city I have been to with my heart. I will linger on the ancient Gu Xiang road that I measured with my feet. Buddha said that looking back 500 times in the past life can only be exchanged for passing by once in this life. In fact, it is true whether it is related to people or things. In the endless wilderness and short life journey, there are really not many scenery that enter your eyes, and even less scenery that goes deep into your bone marrow. Having a scenery, becoming the most stirring and soft heart in your life, is the most beautiful fate and the best gift from God.
Old Town of Lijiang, a stunning place, has never had an affair as a surprise, but it is engraved with endless love in the bottom of my heart. Every alley there tells a touching story, deep or shallow. Those ancient tea-horse roads continue to write the immortal legend of Naxi celebrities. In this life, if there is another chance, I will once again set foot on the old road to find those stories left behind.
Wuzhen, a dreamlike water town, had a slow and short stay five years ago. In the dark green days caressed by the spring breeze, in the drizzling dusk of apricot blossoms, it walked through the colorful alleys, the sentimental bridge head and the past like water passing by. Now when I suddenly look back, I find how many hurried days have been mottled in the lush years, leaving only traces as thin as fireworks, but taking away the memories of my life. Those misty boats, pavilions on waterside pavilions, swaying awnings, soft words of Wu Nong and misty old alleys have come to my dreams countless times today.
In addition, Huizhou, painted in blue ink, was close to Huizhou culture last year 10, and I personally visited those Gu Xiang. There is always deja vu between trance and trance. Only in the profound artistic conception of Huizhou phonology can we know that there is a softness called hometown, a time called vicissitudes and an elegance called ancient rhyme. Once, I wandered in the Gu Xiang on the big beach, dreaming of old Shanghai, looking for the charming figures of women who were hidden in the depths of the years and had the amorous feelings of the Republic of China. Their eyes are flowing, and their smiles are wonderful, enchanting on the notes of time for a long time. Also, the ancient square streets in Beijing are all printed with my light and shallow footsteps, and my soft words from the bottom of my heart float in the quadrangle, deeply feeling the ethereal past in the south of the city.
I like to look for strange places with ancient flavor wherever I go. I don't ask how heavy history is, nor how many vicissitudes there are. I just want to use an idle mood to recall an indescribable old feeling and provoke those nostalgic feelings that sneak into my bones. ...
Such a cloudy day, the sun is shining, the breeze is around the shoulders, there is no misty rain, and there are no lilacs. Invite friends, put on a plain cheongsam jacket that follows your heart, a casual skirt, braid two braids, hang your chest at will, and walk in an alley paved with bluestone, indulging in the old times and looking for the looming old times without propping up. Occasionally passers-by cast a knowing glance, I know that I have become a different kind of scenery in their eyes, and I have a different style.
I came to dapeng ancient city for the second time, not for meeting, but for caring. I am attached to the feeling and softness of walking in the alley, thinking that there must be something I love left in such an ancient alley in my last life. I want it back, not on my chest, so I can never leave it. Although they are not the rain lanes that girls with lilacs walk through in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, they have the same simplicity and elegance, the same quiet and meticulous harmony, the same big white walls, the same bell and drum towers, and the same elegant style. ...
The long alley where the sun is warm and the rain is leaking, immersed in gentle time; The silent story in the wooden door was covered by the yellowing years. I wandered around with my friends, wandering around the alley and going to the end of the ancient road. Some tourists pass by, some occasionally cross their eyes, and some slip silently before their eyes. I think there is nothing like missing life, because the fate is shallow. Even if there was a brief negotiation, even if there was a superposition of footprints, this life can only be a passer-by. Q, a few years later,
The older I get, the more I love the quietness and elegance contained in this ancient meaning. Some people say that quiet and elegant elders are always prosperous and gorgeous. I quite agree with this view. Because, in the final analysis, the maturity of the world and the ultimate maturity of people are nothing more than plain water, just like those wealthy businessmen who used to live a luxurious life and were used to colorful flowers, spring breeze and autumn moon. When they realized the boring and pedantic life in the past, they were willing to move to Shan Ye, take off their brocade pants, put on plain clothes green clothes and enjoy the peace of water.
The alley paved with bluestone, walking on it, makes a drumming Sanskrit sound, echoing in the smoke, which is even more quiet and quiet! Gu Xiang, with its scattered lights in the night, is as quiet as a poem without words and as a painting without ink, which makes people want to fall into poetry and painting. The beauty and seclusion of ancient incense, the indifferent mind, and the human soul will become as quiet and soft as it. I know that to fall in love with such an ancient alley is to fall in love with simplicity, tranquility, blandness and gentleness.
Obsessed with such a quiet ancient rhyme, I am obsessed with the quiet time in Gu Xiang, while Tao Ran is in the old slow time. If there is an afterlife, if I want to choose a city to die and meet someone who will grow old together, I will be gentle all my life, and I will cultivate a normal heart. I will choose such a sunny old city to live in. I will choose a wooden house in a deep alley with a small bridge and running water in front, so I can always be a person near the water. There is a waterside terrace at the back, so you can often go to the West Building alone to watch the smoke lock and enjoy the clouds and smoke.
Every Gu Xiang paved with bluestone hides an ancient story, and every story precipitated by history bears vicissitudes and heaviness. Behind every vicissitudes and heaviness is connotation and culture. Whether we are the protagonist of the story or just passers-by, the profound humanistic model deserves our praise and inheritance. Heavy historical traces are presented in this black-and-white classic color, and long vicissitudes are highlighted in this ink painting.
As time goes by, the years flow. It's good to be glad that I didn't get lost in the busy days, fell in love with someone easily, and failed someone easily. In the dead of night, the clouds are winding and smooth, and I tell you a graceful journey, and I remember a smoke footprint. I only hope that in the old days, sitting quietly in the deep lane of time, I still have a pear-like heart, walk into more ancient incense and dye more ancient rhyme. ...