Shuangcheng

We are destined to encounter such an era. - Shakespeare's Cymbeline

But what kind of era was that?

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. —Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Time and space overlap, time is confused, and time is confused.

Perhaps Hitler's army commander had just been dismissed, Alan Turing had just bitten an apple injected with meth, McCullers' poor husband who had the same name as Lees had just committed suicide by poisoning himself in a small hotel, Thomas Mann's "Death in Venice" has just been banned.

Chengcheng thinks that Venice is a beautiful city, the colors are intertwined like a dream, like a proud six-colored flag.It was a blessing to die there.Mahler's Fifth Symphony echoes in death over and over again.

They cannot choose Tobeornottobe, they can only choose to die in this city or that city.

Cheng Cheng suddenly realized that Yi Lushen was the last person.

The death of all of them made Chengcheng discover the best way to escape from reality. Death can transcend all faults and sins of a person.

To live is an expectation, but in fact it is a crime. — Gibran, "Hymn in Procession"

Cheng Cheng decided to die.

It is a great courage to be born into this world, and it is also a great courage to leave her, and more people have exhausted all the courage of their lives in this initial act, so that they have been cowardly and cowering for the rest of the time, until they are trembling. He watched helplessly as death took them away again.Choosing death is the most difficult thing. Chengcheng has always felt that only those who have fully realized the true meaning of life can face death happily, no matter whether it is ushering in or heading towards it.

But now, he understands that sometimes choosing to die doesn't necessarily require courage, it's just that one feels too tired.

Chengcheng has never been in a concentration camp, has never escaped hardship, has never suffered discrimination and oppression, has never suffered from an incurable disease, and has never suffered any real serious suffering, but he is still qualified to be exhausted and to end his own life.

They drank the bitter wine in the cup of happiness that God bestowed on them, hoping to see the mystery of friendship and peace at the bottom of the cup when they drank it all, and collapsed at the last moment when there were only a few drops left.

They may not have contracted the disease, but they chose to die.Those who died, they were terminally ill psychologically, and what sentenced them to death was not the virus, but the accusation of thousands of people, which was more vicious than any torture of illness.

Causeit'susagainsttheworld, Youandmeagainstthemall.

It's natural to lose, but it's terrible to win.They can't even see the enemy, and they are doomed to be complete losers in this self-proclaimed struggle against the world.Some failures, however, are always better than others.

Before Chengcheng had to do that, he wanted to preserve his dignity and pride.

Chengcheng once thought that it was their love that forced them to the end, but he understood that it was not like that, the unspeakable love was just a leaf in the twisted and growing forest in his heart.

For loneliness swallowed me like a giant whale. - Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

The fleeting joy, the lingering sadness.Laughter is just a piece of good fortune, tears are eternal poetry.

You can't feel it!You don't feel that your pain stems from your broken heart and dysfunctional mind, and that no king or lord in the world can save you. - Goethe "The Sorrows of Young Werther"

Cheng Cheng watched the sun struggling to sink to the ground, he said to Yi Lushen that he didn’t understand why a person would want to watch the sunset when he was sad, what a hopeless picture, the day the little prince watched the sunset 43 times , how sad it is.Every sunset, my life is deprived once. When it gets dark, I feel lonely and desolate. Some people only die once in their life, but I experience death once every day.

Have you ever wondered how to die?

It is a raging fire that burns everything. It comes from hell and spreads throughout the earth, licking the sky, and reflecting the sky red. The blood burns to the boiling point and dies.

Or spread like a cancer, bone-piercingly cold, frozen in the world, exquisitely carved in ice, enjoying the pleasure of life, consciousness, and soul being slowly solidified and taken away bit by bit.

The cold has a unique smell, sharp, bright and dazzling, like white iron or cold springs that have been snowed for a long time, smelling white and bright.

When did it start to get cold?Before the grass and trees show decaying yellowness, before frost and dew cover the grass and trees, before people's faces become stiff, and before the exhaled white mist blurs people's faces, this smell has quietly floated in the air.The cold smell invades the trachea with the breath, erodes the lung lobes, and cools the bones.Clothes can resist the coldness of skin and flesh, but they can't make people escape this pervasive breath.

Under the shroud of such a breath, the trees seem to reflect the light, washing away the slump of the end of summer, revealing a deep and dignified cold green that surpasses the midsummer, as if the strange cold attracts all the greenery to burn the last brilliant.Before sunrise, the morning fog on the less-traveled road has not dissipated, and the orange-red glow is lingering. The street lights on one side of the intersection have been quietly extinguished, while the other side is still dimly lit in the morning light. A row of trees on the side of the street It turns into light yellow like early spring overnight, while the other side is still hesitant green. It seems that the space we are in is divided into two times and two seasons with a subtle boundary.Like a strange and gratifying miracle, the dream is both illusory and real, and the pervasive cold breath makes people sober.

All encounters are only used to achieve miss and parting.The autumn night sky is high and far away, and the scattered stars are lonely in the crimson sky, as if they are about to fall. All the brilliance of all the stars in summer are concentrated in this full moon and a few sparse stars, which look extraordinarily bright and cold .The moon is the death star, the turning point of coldness, and the blazing heat of the sun passes through its icy skin and becomes a cold glow.

The sunshine in early spring is light green, the sunshine in midsummer is scorching yellow, the sunshine in late autumn is rich golden red, and the sunshine in winter is as light and thin as this season of monotonous colors, almost transparent.

Like a mist, light and uneven light-colored sunlight floats, and through the slant of the glass, people can see some vague, small, bright, but almost temperatureless shadows of the sun.The sun seems to be cold when it comes from such a far place, but after all, it makes people feel warm. Although the tentacles are slightly cold, people are still willing to believe in the color of the metal, forgetting that the metal is originally cold without the fire, just like their I believe that as long as they are willing to reach out, they can hold each other's hands, and they will be as warm as each other.

The fragmented and fallen leaves in autumn are frozen in the water-filled depressions, like frozen flames. Those crimson and tender green leaves condensed with sunlight, after burning vigorously for a whole summer, in autumn—the four seasons The second spring of the year - it bloomed into a flower, and every leaf on the tree and the ground was another flower.But now, in another form of sunlight, they are quietly solidified in this small space. They are obviously shallow depressions, but after being modified by sunlight and accumulated ice, they subtly deepen, layer upon layer. The shriveled and broken leaves made the puddle of water incredibly deep, like a bottomless abyss, leading to the other side of the earth.It's hard to tell whether the icy, warm-coloured sunlight comes from the vast sky or from the depths of the ice.

When Chengcheng looked down at the shallow water, there was always an inexplicable but strong urge to jump into it.

When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you. — Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

Winter is a thin season. The dark brown dead branches split the light and transparent sky, the snow-covered earth has faded its color, and the blurred, small and bright winter sun casts sharp but cold eyes.Winter's voice is silence, and winter's schedule is meditation.

According to the book, when the sun burns out its own heat, it will expand into a huge, fiery red, low temperature star.Could it be that the winter sun is about to burn out, although it is small and pale golden, it is also cool.

The sun, the sun is gone, there is no more sun.

When did the snow start to fall?

Chengcheng hopes that the end of the world will be a heavy snow, and all the filth will be buried one after another. The whole world will be covered with white snow, slowly frozen and solidified in an instant, becoming an exquisite sculpture.

Chengcheng can't tell which season he loves most, and he doesn't want to exchange a certain part of his life for a certain season's permanent residence. It is difficult to choose, and it is unnecessary.

He doesn't want the four seasons to be like spring, he would like to walk through the changing seasons, in the cold and desolate Meng Dong, where the eyes are cold, the mind is numb and sober, and everything is dormant, and the drowsy and wet Meng Dong is looking forward to the drunkenness. In the warm and frenzied midsummer, in the cool and light, in the early spring when the thin ice begins to dissolve and the flowing water is clear and clear, the thoughts are rampant, and in the early spring, I miss the deep, rich, thick, mellow, sad, affectionate and gentle, and even the dust is stagnant on the violin Late autumn with poetry and orange sunshine.

In the late spring and early summer, the rich and slightly intoxicating fragrance of roses falls little by little in the green curtain of green branches and vines, like a white waterfowl on the surface of a deep green lake, and the petals like cicada wings seem to be faintly visible between the necklines. A little bit of transparent white collarbone and neck, a little embers of fanaticism remaining from the beginning of autumn and summer, filled with dust and osmanthus aroma, and the mellow air flows slowly.

People don't know how to be satisfied. They always miss warmth in severe cold and early spring in scorching heat. The difference between seasons is similar to the difference between human feelings. However, seasons are different from human feelings. Seasons are endless and endless. Periods, nostalgia and expectations, the boundaries are not so clear.

He travels through the changing seasons, with warm and cold, mixed colors, dreaming in spring, pondering in autumn, fantasizing in summer and meditating in winter.

He remembered the laughter that was fading away, he remembered the whispers of those gentle and breezy teenagers, as if separated by a time and space.

The author has something to say:

For this part, it is still recommended to be eaten with Karen’s Casablanca. There is nothing more in line with my mood than the tune of this song.

I also recommend the Sound of Silence by Paul Simon and Garfunkel. It is probably my favorite English song in the second year of junior high school. The lyrics are beautiful and profound, but because of the different moods in different periods, my favorite song keeps changing, so I don’t remember much. Was Qing my favorite at that time?I have always liked the harmony of Simon and Garfunkel, the artistic conception of dreams and hallucinations, and Scarborough Fair also prefers the version of these two people. Sarah Brightman's voice is too spiritual, but there is no such thing Talking like a troubadour, gossiping about the vicissitudes of history.Soldiers fight for a long-forgotten cause.

I quoted the lyrics of GloomySunday earlier. The first version I heard of this song was Sarah Brightman’s version. Hearing Billie Holly Day's version, jazz is another kind of sadness, magnetic and slightly hoarse, like a scratched old record,

There is also Bandari's Misty Drops of Water. When I hear this piece of music, I don't know why, but I always think of a swaying red poppy on a field of golden green withered grass under a warm sun.