vintage blog

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2010年10月13日(2010-10-1323:22)

He is very eye-catching, and sometimes you can tell it is him by looking at the back.

I met him again that day, at the graffiti wall at the north gate.

He is alone, with several buckets of paint at his feet, and a brush to color the line drawings.

Just as the sun was setting, the setting sun shone on his left, leaving a shadow on his right.

I remembered the light and shadow skills taught by the teacher in the photography class, and suddenly felt that this scene was very good, so I took out my phone and quietly took a picture standing behind him.

I forgot to turn off the shutter sound.

He turned his head when he heard the sound.

When I was caught taking a sneak shot, I was petrified on the spot, and I froze there not knowing what to do.

He was not very happy, but he still smiled at me and said, "Are you going to shoot me, or this wall?"

I almost stuttered, I said: "All shots..."

What I want to say is that you are complete with this wall, and this picture is beautiful.

He only said two words: "Shoot."

Then he turned around and continued to paint the wall.

This is the first time I've spoken to him.

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Memory is elusive, and many things that are unforgettable at the time will be forgotten in a blink of an eye.

If one day you find a diary from elementary school at the bottom of the cabinet, and you read it page by page, you will not be able to help laughing, and you will also be unbelievable: Is this really what I wrote?

Yes, you wrote it, and your name is on the first page of the diary.

Then you will be amazed: such a thing happened when I was a child.

When I read this blog again, I have such a feeling in my heart.

It turned out to be me who wrote it.

The night was already very deep, and the surroundings were eerily quiet.There was no light in my room, only my phone was on.

Averting my eyes from the screen, I stared at the silent ceiling, and a feeling of absurdity rose from the bottom of my heart.

In the past few days, I have repeatedly denied it. I read this article with everyone in full view, but I never thought that I wrote it myself.

My brain was like a dry pond, somewhere a floodgate opened and memories trickled in like water.

Yes, there is such a person, I admired him, met him by chance, tried to get to know him, and finally bid farewell to him helplessly.

Besides, what else happened?

I tried to recall, but was at a loss.

He pretty much made up my entire life during that time.And when that time passed, he quickly became a dusty memory, and quickly degenerated into a distant symbol.

The frenzy and restlessness of that time have long since left me, like old furniture being locked in a storage room.Now I open that door again, and I find that I have become a bystander in my vague memory, and my memory has become a strange story.

I could see myself quietly logging into Jiang Lu's blog and writing an article in it.

What was going on in my heart at that time?I can't feel it at all.

I read Jiang Lu's blog again from the beginning.

Let me find out which other articles I wrote.