Friday, 10 October 2008
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Time boil the wine  jade 08:08:14 |
| | "The youth is a bright and beautiful sorrow. "This sentence was spoken by Guo JingMing. Whenever remember this sentence, there is only half of face to bathe in the sunshine to will remember that, the child standing on playground alone, sometimes think that child is on me.
Always like listening to flowers the sound in bloom, resumes and sees it, the sky is still very blue, cursory. On the first, in January, one year, quickly. Day makes no public appearances in one from a too impatient to wait sound of one's walking. Always run ceaselessly in time, will never stay. I stretched out both hands, the ones that once wanted to catch are bright, they made the discovery that while stretch out handsing transparent as diluting by the flowing water. That also long to state full prediction of a person's luck in a given year of memory already when me with the pass through and pass between being transparent.
Perhaps, only various feelings are fixed on paper, annotate the battle array of growing up out in characters, more permanent like this. Hiding a medicine in these characters, conciliate our wound, the time of retreating is superficial and showy, no longer let time and memory run in the opposite direction. Perhaps, this is only that a holds a memorial ceremony for once way.
Memory drift about aimlessly, find trace that time row, those split miss bright and beautiful to cover by black clouds that swept over once. Can't see, but still warm. I want, go, defend fragile memory like foam that, can they become lighter and lighter. As if had a lengthy dream, it is still that life to wake up. Only the light of the sun shone to once sorrow once in a while, the ones that stired and missed drifted along.
Like road, one station another station ground can constant someone will enter or leave life. When getting to the next stop, there will be strange persons that enter, persons that will know well leave too. There are new stories to happen here, have too? Miss of the old story.
It is a section of road, one second, two seconds, three seconds ......
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Friday, 27 June 2008
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| Sad, can only play once every day jade 07:52:28 |
| | " Every day, once of melancholy sigh in order to be buried deeply " Have one only while being sad, have one only while being lonely, regret only one time, to what oneself make being then once only, that becomes that bright illusion at someone's convenience again and again, hide in our minds deeply, remember it, take the dense old breath, hovers in our brain Believe oneself!
It is just the beginning of November, the breath in winter has already spread in the whole city, there is clear and thin cold fog misty on jacket angle of water among the mountains in the morning. I lean against and wait for bus at the station bordering on the river, am oozed clammily by that so that some avoid contracting, then, were suddenly attracted by a burst of sound of musical instrument.
http://www.balletschool-hk.com/ballet_school.htm
Go to follow popularity, under that deciduous banyan, set up a street musician. Probably the look of the middle age, is closing the eyes a little, is playing a melody that I can not say the name with his violin. Not clear either, which any did his suddenly touched me. Perhaps, it is that a bit incomplete and old but clean clothing of his; Perhaps, it is that on his face that wipes deep melancholy. I begin to listen to the song that he drew conscientiously. Very cool tune such as the sigh such as the deciduous sadness in the wind, is the true sadness of the last in the city, mild and indirect life is gaudy definitely. The violin is thin and thin, tell helplessness and grief like the shadow following the person. I listen to absorbedly, the heart, fill-uped strongly fragrant and strongly fragrantly little by little, the ones that think of the wadding and drift into and can't know are when worry about
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