[Comprehensive British and American] Domineering heroine talks too much

autumn report

Song Xin looked at her watch, the time pointed to [-]:[-].

White pigeons flew up in New York's Central Park, Song Xin said shyly, "...I'm sorry for delaying your time for 15 minutes."

To Song Xin's surprise, Lance Carr wasn't angry, and didn't even say anything, but asked curiously: "You asked these questions, what exactly are you trying to write? Charles didn't mention it to me. "

Song Xin smiled warmly: "It's a bit troublesome to talk about. I will talk to your secretary in detail later. You still have to rush to queue, so I won't waste your time."

The wind in Central Park was bitter. Song Xin wrapped her windbreaker and was about to leave, but Lance Carr said, "Tell me, I'll treat you to pizza."

Song Xin was taken aback, the old man waved his cane, walked ahead, and walked out of Central Park.

Song Xin laughed, quickened her pace, and followed the footsteps of the old man.

The old man wears a pair of elegant leather gloves from the beginning to the end, even when he sits at the table, the pizza shop is noisy, his hair is gray, and he doesn't look like an Internet tycoon at all. He looks like an ordinary 70-[-]-year-old The old man has wrinkles on his neck and layers of age spots.

The waiter brought the pizza, and Song Xin smelled the familiar durian smell, and suddenly felt like the world was over.

Lance Carr didn't take off his gloves at all, and picked up a piece of pizza wearing leather gloves. Song Xin thought that for an interview, something must be discarded—such as dignity, taste buds, and life—she also picked it up. One piece, took a bite with courage.

Lance Carr said: "Now that you eat my pizza, you can always tell me what you want to write?"

Song Xin swallowed the pizza hard, and said to the old man, "I...I want to write a group portrait."

"Group portrait?" Lance Carr frowned: "What do you mean?"

Song Xin scratched her head, put down the piece of pizza, and said shyly, "That's right, I want to write... something different, just like I said before interviewing you, what I want to write is "people" .For such a long time, whether in the magic world or among mutants, I have met many people and gained a deep understanding."

Song Xin took out her thick notebook from her satchel, opened a page, and smiled at Lance Carr: "I met a lot of people in China... There are homeless uncles, just because He can keep things away from him when it matters and he can save himself from harm. There are also young girls who are abandoned by their parents after being found out that they are mutants... I interviewed them to understand their lives , their lives."

Song Xin flipped through the page after page of the notebook. On the notebook was Song Xin's scribbled and flying handwriting, and the interviewee's photo was pasted on the corner.Song Xin's photography skills are not good, and the pictures of them are a bit ugly, but they are unspeakably real.

The truth flows down the traces, large pores and vicissitudes of life on their faces, which is an unbearable weight.

"I think," Song Xin said softly, "the news should never be subjective, so if I describe their lives in the most objective way and present them to the public, what will happen?"

Song Xin said: "The people I met in the magic world, they made mistakes, but yearned for a bright future like us. Those people sang 'love', 'family' and 'friendship' like us, and excluded others but for Regret it, stigmatize yourself when you realize your mistake - they can do it, why can't we?"

Lance Carr sneered: "Naive, the mentality of a child, do you really think that people in this world can't be changed by black and white?"

Song Xin scratched her head: "Actually... I often think that way when I dream back at midnight."

"Does it make sense for me to do this?" Song Xin rubbed her fingers uneasily: "Will someone talk to me? Am I too naive? I am often tortured by such thoughts and can't sleep..."

Song Xin looked out the window uneasily. Compared with when she was in college, she lost a lot of weight, and the baby fat faded away, replaced by a sharpened chin and firm eyes.

"...but I also feel," Song Xin said to herself, "I have to do this. These childish things have to be done by young people, and they must be young people."

Song Xin raised her head and said to Lance Carl, "If we don't try, then the world can only stand still, and more people like me, like them, and like you can only survive in the cracks."

Lance Carr looked at Song Xin.

Song Xin said: "So I am willing to give my meager strength, maybe these things—" She clicked on the thick dozen notebooks and said: "—There is no response at all, there is no response at all..."

Song Xin said: "But I will continue to do it, I will not shrink back, and I will not regret it."

"A correct thing," the young Song Xin looked at the wrinkled old man, his posture was like a steel blade quenched from the fire.

"—someone always has to start," she said.

—It was a very young man.

Lance Carr looked at her for a long time, as if he was watching his impassioned years in Cambridge, the youth who were indignant for Cuba and the Soviet Union, the flags and slogans flying in the sky, the young and rallying teenagers.

Look at their young, energetic, righteous and passionate past, who would die for the truth.

Young, and justice go hand in hand.

And justice is forever young.

"Will you grow old, little reporter?" Lance Carr asked abruptly, but then he shook his head amusedly and said, "—I don't think you will."

The pizza was extremely unpalatable, and Lance Carr made a special trip to line up, but he couldn't finish it in the end.

Before checking out, Lance Carr asked, "Did you take pictures of everyone you interviewed?"

Song Xin was taken aback, and nodded: "Yes, of course this is a voluntary principle. I usually only carry a mobile phone with me, so the conditions for taking photos are relatively simple... I will try to find some old photos of you. substitute."

Lance Carr flipped through Song Xin's book, and there were two photos of each interviewee, a frontal photo, and a bloody, straightforward image, proving that they were different from ordinary people.

Lance Carr said, "You shoot."

Song Xin was stunned, and the pizzeria was full of hustle and bustle, and the streets of New York were turning yellow in early autumn, and the graffiti on the walls of Brooklyn was colorful, full of the atmosphere of life and theater art.

Song Xin said awkwardly: "...I don't think this place is formal enough..."

The old man said, "Let's shoot, it's okay."

Then Lance Carr removed his hat from the front of his body and sat on the soft leather sofa in a bulging overcoat. The clear light reflected his wrinkled and weathered face from the cracks in the trees.

He is a bit old, with bald hair, unkempt appearance, age spots on his face, and sharp and uncomfortable vulture-like eyes. He is a weird and sharp old man, but he is also a legendary figure.

Song Xin obediently took out her phone, clicked the shutter button.

"Not bad." Lance Carr said slowly, "Although your photography skills are terrible, it's still a kind of reality... Do you want to see my hidden disability?"

Song Xin was stunned, and said, "This—this—"

But the old man pulled off the glove.

Song Xin suddenly felt an unspeakable discomfort. Lance Carl's hands were even sticky when he took off the gloves. Those hands that were secreting mucus were swollen and red, and the age spots were soaked and transparent, without even a single crease. , like the ankle of a terminal uremia patient with extremely severe renal edema—but sticky.

"Sorry." Lance Carr said without emotion: "I didn't get swollen at first, but I have been using inhibitors, that's it... You have to forgive me, I am not a normal person without inhibitors."

"When I was the poorest," Lance Carr said, "I only had twenty dollars in my pocket, and I bought inhibitors on the black market... otherwise people would find me different and disgusting. You can imagine Come out? A Cambridge graduate, because of his own mutation, has fallen to this point."

Song Xin said with difficulty: "I'm sorry..."

There were even scraps of paper and scabs clumped in the mucus, which looked terribly horrible.

Lance Carr said tiredly: "You shoot."

"I don't want to see those hands," said Lance Carr oldly. "Come on, so I can put gloves on."

Song Xin took two pictures with trembling hands, and thanked them in a trembling voice.

Lance Carr put on the gloves and said calmly: "I've never let anyone take pictures of these hands, and I've always worn gloves. It's really not good to do this in front of ladies—but I think you need this photo, Whether it is in terms of the truth you are pursuing, or as a gimmick for your newspaper sales."

Song Xin's eyes turned red, she nodded, and said softly, "...Thank you, thank you."

The old man said: "I have one more request. In addition to those two photos, I hope you will put the photos of me when I was in Cambridge... The ones when I was ten years old are not difficult to find..."

Song Xin nodded with difficulty.

"Okay." Lance Carl clapped his hands and said, "Let's go, I have some things to do this afternoon, I really won't leave you this time—send the samples to our company—wait, I have a question."

Song Xin was tidying up her notebook and raised her head in doubt.

The old man asked strangely: "Do you know that this pizza is not good?"

Song Xin: "..."

Song Xin hesitated and said, "Forget it, let's say it... But I think that everyone's taste is different. Maybe you think the food that I find unpalatable is delicious?"

The old man wondered: "I also think it's pretty bad. I waited in line for nothing...but why do you know it's bad? Have you ever eaten it?"

Song Xin scratched her head, and said embarrassedly: "No, I used to work here as a college student, the tuition is so expensive...it's not too far from our university."

The old man snorted and laughed: "Little reporter, you always remind me of my university appearance. I was working in a hot dog shop, one outside of Cambridge. At that time, there was a blonde girl who wanted to call me, I still remember her wearing a blue and white striped dress..."

The sky was clear and blue, and the old man looked at the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance. The bridge stretched straight and glowed golden in the autumn sun.His eyes are full of nostalgia, as if looking at himself in the past decades.

"I wish you luck." Lance Carr waved his gloved hand and said to Song Xin, "See you by fate."

……

The door of the pizzeria.

Someone behind her whispered, "I always feel that the person standing over there looks like Senior Sister Song Xin."

"Why is Senior Sister Song here..." Another little girl paused and said again: "No, that's right!...Senior Song!"

Song Xin turned her head and smiled at the two little girls.

The two little girls laughed immediately, waved to Song Xin, and asked, "Senior sister, are you back for dinner?"

Song Xin smiled and said, "Yeah, have I changed so much? I'm ready to go to work now."

The little girl laughed: "Senior sister's smile is the same as before! They are both sweet and cute—senior sister, can I call a car for you?"

Song Xin smiled with crooked eyes, "No need, I'm waiting for someone."

Little girl: "The driver?"

Song Xin thought for a while and said, "No."

"He's a hero." Song Xin whispered in the white sunlight, "He's coming soon."

The author has something to say: _(:з」∠)_The speed of life and death! ! !