Yesterday, under a lot of rain ... rain ... where a lot of sand mixed with the sludge. . Washed from the streets. This year, the north are full of rain, on and off for the next several times. Room, the dark outside the window just by squeezing the wash after a rain grow new leaves and branches, the light running along the gaps come in, see them standing still, I feel like traveling back millions of years ago, one bar, they had never existed. Do not mix with the ideas and trampled.
Passing through a path out there was a row of iron bars, which is a residential area, 70's, little house, but not alleys. Alleys have a strong flavor of life, and this could be the number of rows to the end of the house, but think it is isolated, single up, there are the same as the old house with old house together with the existence of the Chinese parasol trees, high, close to I can you look to the sky. As if they border, but not really tall tree.
The rain, the fence on the wound with a loofah vine flowers, open from Grand Duo Grand Duo of yellow, color, bright, soft, there are water droplets, broken pieces, and one then one will be dropping down to the leaves, drops landed on the soil under the fence, the sky clean, slight downward pressure, no clouds, Chun-chun of the milky white. There, as one, I remember seeing before, forgot where seen, forget the name of the painting. Oil painting color than here, more dense. Looked at, not real.
The reality and the hope, the want, there will always be gaps, and this gap will widen, like a ray will not stop, knowing tired, give up.
Some cold days, this year the north, giving things a lot of different feelings. The weather, people, houses. Or, they would have is the starting point, around a long time, finally recovered the road, or that it is only an illusion and fancies, in an endless stretches of barren desert, but also push forward.
Front, that's what. No matter what, life still goes on.
昨天，下了一场很大的雨……雨水里混杂着大量的沙子，污泥。。冲刷起街道。今年，北方的雨水很足，断断续续的下了几回。屋子里，昏暗窗户外面挤压着刚刚经雨水冲洗过后长出的新的叶子和树枝，光沿着空隙跑进来，看到它们静止不动，觉得仿佛回到了上百万年以前，人吧，从来就没存在过。不带有思想的混合和践踏。
路过一条小路，外面有一排铁栅栏，里面是居民区，70年代，矮小的房子，但不是弄堂。弄堂里有浓重的生活气息，而这一栋栋可以数到尽头的房子，却觉得是孤立的，单一起来，有很房子一样老的跟随着老房子一起存在的梧桐树，高，接近我能望的到的天空。好像它们接壤，却算不上参天大树。
经雨后，栅栏上缠绕着丝瓜花藤，开起大朵大朵的黄花，颜色明亮，柔和，有水珠，碎碎的，一朵接着一朵，会往下滴落，到叶子上，滴落到栅栏下的泥土上，天空干净，微微向下压，没有云朵，纯纯的乳白色。在那里，像一幅，我记得看到过，忘记在哪里见过，忘记名字的油画。油画的色彩比这儿，更浓重。看着，并不真实。
现实和所希望的，所想要的，总会有差距，而且这种差距会拉大，像一条不会停止的射线，知道疲倦，放弃了。
天有些冷了，今年北方，给人不同的感觉的事很多。天气，人，房子。或者，它们本来就是起点，绕了很久，终于找回了路，又或者，那只是一个望梅止渴的幻想，在一望无垠的沙漠之中，还得继续往前走。
前面的，那是什么呢。不管是什么，生活还是要继续。