as you meet

A few years before He Shengsheng began to write letters, I thought about that night when I calmed down to create, and wrote many works that satisfied me in terms of rhythm and concept, but unfortunately, I am proud of it His poems were unpopular works in that era.

At the same time, I was also earnestly studying art appreciation. At that time, I was more intoxicated in art appreciation, because appreciation is not like writing. When appreciating, you are a person with a straight back and looking down at the work. When writing, you are bent over and writing on the table late at night. It is much easier for people to appreciate than to write.When I study a work of art, it always allows me to escape a little bit from the cage where I am being pointed at.

The first year of communicating with students and students was the year when I completed the art appreciation class, and it was also the year when the moon was high.

The bright marble eyes of the god of beauty were smashed in anger, and when they were hammered to the ground and turned into dull pieces of rubble, they replaced them with the moon.

Later, people pushed down the high goddess of beauty, smashed her skirt with stones, scratched her face with blades, threw her into the ruins, and hung the moon on a high stone shelf to sing praises every day.

Naturally, I was also sent to the ruins along with the broken cart carrying the broken statues. All the works created after spending many days and nights were torn to pieces by those little-known decadent poets and trampled underfoot, as if I were Enemies who will take their lives.

They can always find a poem that resembles me and point at my nose and yell at me for being shameless and overconfident, even though I know that the poem that resembles me was written only seven days after my poem was published .

Sometimes I meet up with friends who are busy during the day to discuss poetry at night, and the media will also be called a late-night tryst by the stalking media, and I will be given the notoriety of being a chaotic and dissolute prodigal son.

As reports with strange titles appeared one after another, my friends gradually cut off contact with me.

Maybe a few people know the truth, or maybe the whole world knows it, but who cares except the believers of the decadent?People's eyes are open, but the soul cannot open the eyes, but they love the blinded soul.

Those fists that slammed at me without any mercy, harsh words, and scarred hearts, except for themselves, are "nothing special" or "not very new" to others. not very interested".

As the time of art study decreased after graduation, more time was devoted to creation, and more places in my heart were gradually burned by words like hot venom. At that time, every comment on my poems was like It is to add a strong copper lock to my heart.I always remind myself not to care about these, as long as I am satisfied, but my heart is like a reckless adventurer, I can't control myself, I just want to get into the thorny forest full of rumors, I want to run to the exit, but My whole body is out of my control.

I remember one night when the moon was so bright that it seemed to blind the faint lights on the desk. At that time, I was studying art works and was turning to Pompeii: Villa of the Mysteries. The moon happened to shine on the side of the woman in the skirt in that painting. Dionysus, came here on a whim and checked the story of Dionysus.After reading it carefully, I began to envy him deeply, just like I envy the collection of poems that are always placed on the high shelf, just like I envy the boy whom Nightingale loves.At the same time, disappointment, loneliness and loneliness were born in my heart.

To be redeemed by the gods three times, I am really envious.

I know I should be content, because I was saved by the boy in front of the Muse statue, but in that situation where I was trapped in the vine, no matter what I did, I thought in my heart that if the ray of sunshine could shine again I'm fine.