Seeing a friend’s message always makes the mood brighter for no apparent reason, let alone an old friend you haven’t seen in seven years, the stubborn colors of those years of cold. I saw the following text in Shuguang’s space, so I’ll reproduce it to remember him, and us.
Qing hosted “Three Gorges Youth” and landed in Yichang. I read an article in his blog called “Memories of Ah Qing”, from elementary school to the present life, in which he also mentioned me, our “three friends of the year”. I have not seen him for many years, Qing has aged, he has started to remember.
Yes, the years are cold and three friends.
Qing likes bamboo, and Bamboo became his pen name. At that time, Ah Qing was a person I liked very much. He was white and clean, junior high school age, but his personality is very old. I was at the same table with him, and every day he was very quiet, not a sound beside me. But Qing’s heart is very bright, he loves literature, but also write a good hand, in that simple and quiet town, is very easy to be famous.
We were all very good at languages, but Ah Qing was more like a talent than I was. At that time, the examination was more domineering than the college entrance examination, and the door of the key was eerie. The first thing you need to do is to get a good idea of what you are getting into. About this memory, I always seem very small, do not love to study, only love words bad students.
The trajectory of Ray’s life was unexpected to me.
Once in language class, Ray and I scraped the chalk dust on the edge of the lectern, waiting to wear new clothes language teacher rubbed on the body, the results were not surprising, the language teacher’s clothes appeared on an even “gray belt”. Ray sat in the front row and turned to me with a triumphant gesture of victory. Then I even went into the office.
Such shenanigans stopped in high school. We went our separate ways in high school and went to different schools. However the rumors about Ray never stopped, first he picked up my neighbor, then he had an accident and dropped out of school, and then he lost track of everything. Ray’s life had a lot of hiccups, and it was too late to inquire. I thought at the time that Ray’s life should have been extraordinary, he was a person used to give the unexpected, and then put himself in deep water, and then or rise or fall.
In high school, I have less of these friends, Ah Qing began to bury their heads in the sand again for the college entrance exams, Ray continued to give us a surprise, I blandly went through three years of high school, which published a lot of fly-tipped text, leaving school, I put a “dream of flowers falling” permanently in the school network. The teacher said it was a classic.
One day after coming to Wuhan, I received a call from my former high school homeroom teacher, who said **** where are you, you wrote the article “scavenger words” on the national publication, come back to receive the award. I smiled, said thank you and hung up the phone. At that time I was walking to school, cherry blossom avenue sunny, I chose to read international economics and trade, he did not know, my life has nothing to do with literature.
I like the title that Ah Qing chose for this article. I read his article and felt that the same white and clean him, as if he was standing in the memory waving at me. I would love to walk over and discover my own path, derived in another direction.
So I wrote on the message to his article.
Those impressions back then.
Somehow obliterated, the
The pen in my hand is also pressed into strings by many, many loves and hates.
Nowadays, May is not the same May as before.
Just holding the piano.
Memories still can’t be stopped, flowing through the fingertips.
I so leave a message–
I came to see you, on a bright blue-sky start of autumn.
Many times rush by, stepping over our passing and bringing up boundless dew.
Not long ago I watched too many movies about memory, about some friendship brothers, back as it were.
Reminds me of you, and you guys.
There is not much such as the red earth connection, and never forget, you are full of green mountains smile.
And our rock-paper-scissors encounters on the playground in the white flurry over which path to take.
When there is a seven-year absence, I have your address hidden in the most sincere part of my heart.
Seven years of days and months, inevitably the world’s despondency or fall or climb up, remembering us, finally bright. Like the dawn.
At the end of the day, I am bamboo. At this time is in early autumn, the year will be cold, cold and warm.