A tree, but also a tree ...
From behind speeding and had disappeared in the dusty road side looking out the window, simple and tedious, strong winds, blowing in the body, very nice, but the spirit can not help thinking Daijuan up.
Close your eyes, do not know right where - and too intertwined with the experience, memory, hand, blurred.
"Zhouzhuang is up, please passengers to get off" - the voice of middle-aged stewardess, uniform pitch, as well as a trace of fatigue.
The sound of a motor vehicle, hawker cries of the crowd noise of a sudden took me from a world of fantasy towed back to the reality.
"Oh, the original in Zhouzhuang a"
A little sun glare, it lowers, I move to go in an unfamiliar world.
Dream rivers and lakes, at the moment has been so real, the sun, like the same picture is revealed.
Narrow river, winding bridges, as well as a wide variety of old houses.
But ...
Visitors rave reviews, can not see quartzite gloss on the history of the human voice, such as boiling or hear the deep, resonant sigh alley
Aura also has lost the stream, in the dim luster slowly passing away
This is Zhouzhuang?
Through the crowd, away from the noise, in the deep alleys pacing to see hanging under the eaves in the blue sky and listen to Wu-ning soft sound of the phrase, slowly feeling the Millennium vicissitudes of life change of the iceberg.
Have the same dreams, perhaps a painter, perhaps the students, in their approach, or a painting, or drawing, to the realm of dreams and realities of the world, in a stroke to become an instant in the eternal.
Inadvertently wandering into an alley and inconspicuous. Deep of the gallery, mottled white walls, the vague shapes of screen wall on the lonely words: "Art Collection." Ground was broken bluestone brick, standing on top, given the rhythmic sound, like a slow Meditation.
"Deep spring garden and perils," It was a studio, the house is not bright, so Feel opening their eyes. Display is not too neat, a table top filled with paints and brushes, a sofa and small table, piled newspapers, the rest is a wall painting. Open the tray, then to talk about art, talk about life, so that time passes slowly, and in this hut. Suddenly remembered a poem to "Sri Lanka are legendary dragons dwelling only."
Farewell painter, returned to the streets. Visitors gradually thinning, I wander aimlessly Akira. Weekday overcrowding Quanfu bridge, today it is empty, only the setting sun shines on the bridge Xiaguang. At the bridge, walking without their human right and left swing, watching the shadow suddenly looks like a long suddenly short, and very pleasant.
West, through the flower-decked paths, to the whole Temple. The huge temple pavilion, the reflection in the mirror-like surface of the lake, the more increased the deserted feeling. Leaned in the booth, listening to the calls of forest birds, watching the shadow of pavilions, with the time steps, walked thousands of years of silence.
At that moment, seem to see the beauty of Zhouzhuang, from the lake, from the bridge, from the pavilion disclosed to the United States, there is simplicity.
At that moment, the town seemed to have heard the inner voice, gentle, meticulous, as well as elegant.
Unfortunately, all this has been gradually weak, do not know the end, hopefully long adagio.
And perhaps finish off the night under the beautiful moonlight, and perhaps the night cold water, were not allowed to savor of the.
Road lies ahead, but where is it going?
2002.05.28 ---- Jiejia Bridge in Suzhou
Author: DarkFly
