endless roses

Chapter 108 Looking for Aslan

"Aslan" is the name Wei Ming gave to my little bicycle.

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Going out a quarter of an hour early, riding a bike can just arrive early, but it's not there.

I remember that I parked under the camphor tree the day before yesterday, and the rain made the ground a bit muddy. I fixed the car and left. I also remember that it was always locked in the garage downstairs near the entrance on the left, but today, where is it? ?

I heard the song "Someone jumped from the Yellow Crane Tower" in my ears, walked slowly, heard the birdsong besides the song, there was the fragrance of green grass, the black cat was hiding in the shadow, and the three flowers were in the grass Scratching and kicking her own neck repeatedly with her hind paws, she sang to "It's raining in Wuhan", but the rain had stopped in Sucheng, and I was holding a cup of coffee.As for the courses, he explained in the beginning of the semester that all the courses this semester are to prepare for the final paper, and I have already conceived the paper, so I don't need to go, and I don't want to be late.

I shook the key, not in a relaxed state of mind, nor blocked, just walking aimlessly, oh, this time to find a car.

Aslan, I know you're wandering somewhere, and you're waiting for me, waiting to be claimed.

Going back to the garage, there's one like it, shorter, no.What kind of poetry is interesting, what kind of language can be called poetry.Where are you, somewhere in the world, somewhere on campus.If you can't find it, don't be discouraged. You are in the world, just as you are by my side.Like the other one, the frame has only one horizontal line, not two.

Literature and poetry collide.I know I can't write poetry, and I can't write literature, I'm just used to raving.Is there a big difference between the sorting trolley and the bamboo cypress at the courier? They are all fallen leaves from my world, but in different shapes.

The sound of the flute, the whistle, the sound of the birds, I think of the moon last night, it is the last quarter moon, it has a romantic light, projected on the campus, I remember that the cloud is a little thin in the night sky, but I don’t remember where I parked the car.

I have traveled to many corners on weekdays, and it is not there.I know it is silent, playful, waiting to be discovered in one place.Where will I be, and what kind of poems will I write?Or, the combination of words is just the language being manipulated, confusing the audience with cumbersome and detailed scenes, and the language is the curtain, covering the emptiness in the box.

Aslan is the son of Narnia, a lion, and the name of my cart.

Maybe it's just because I'm a lunatic who tells stories, and bad ones at that, that I demand to be true to myself, and I'm good at raising the fog.However, the hazy rain in the south of the Yangtze River can also be regarded as "fog".Maybe it was unlocked in the morning, and I was detained in the garage downstairs. I received an interview notice from ICBC, and on Friday, I bought an ice cream.

Today is not a dream, it is me who is wandering, her thoughts are flying, and she has nothing to say.If there is confusion, then I will smile slyly.

Back from class yesterday afternoon, did I go to buy coffee by bike?Then park the car under a camphor tree?do not remember.

There seemed to be a class last night, Xu walked back, because he sweated a lot at night, he must be on the steps, so he walked there.Next time, I have to play a piece of blues on the ocarina. I waited for the dawn yesterday, and a certain bird began to sing before the light appeared. I imagined that it would carry a rose to my dream, or that the rose was always in my hand.My world is fragmented, they are scattered everywhere, in different shapes, but in a sense the material is the same.

Whistle? Come on~ Whistling in my heart is a melodious ditty.

I really didn't, did I see a girl in a fancy dress when I rode my car back on the night of the last quarter moon yesterday?Didn't you lock the car under the cherry tree and walk to the classroom?Don't wait until old age, I will forget many things in the next moment.

Finally, I walked under the tree and saw red flowers growing among the leaves all over the ground. They were zinnias, which were opened by humans in outer space five or six years ago. It was the first human flower that bloomed in the vast universe.Summer is here, summer will flow, this is its moment, someone is squatting in front of the flower, sniffing, there is a flower with a darker color.On the steps with the benches, someone stood still, as if they were looking at the photos, their shiny black velvet academic uniforms seemed to be embracing.The sky in the southwest is blue like rain. She passed me by bicycle, turned around and traveled far away. Out of the corner of her eye, she mistakenly took the gap in the hair tip as a vacancy in the shape of a first quarter moon. It was my white shirt that gave it the color.

The lights are like the moon, and in the trees, the wind blows the leaves layer by layer and whispers. This world is ridiculous, but this world is beautiful.Where the road is repaired, like its patches, the sound of cicadas is so loud and piercing, are you talking to your companions?You are silent again, ringing in the distance.It's officially entering the plum season today, and it's always hot, often sunny, and occasionally cool.

She in the black dress is retrograde, she is a little fat, the way her hair is pulled up is cute, and she is slightly greasy.There is also her in purple, whizzing by, on the northern road, I go west and left, they go right on the left road, everything is peaceful, in the journey of life, we meet by chance.

Maybe my car has left, and I will never be with me in my life. Maybe, I have found it in a few minutes.At this moment, the sky in the east is clearer than in the west. I came from the east, a traveler there, looking for the Lion King of Narnia.

Finally, you are in front of me, facing a piece of green grass.Should I smile, do you need this smile, Aslan?

With the ticking of high heels, she passed by with flowers in her hand. She walked on this street and ran towards the south.The bird hangs low, the night has not yet risen, and the evening wind blows. I am the standing woman in the evening wind.There is no sorrow and happiness, just standing peacefully. There are countless distant places, countless dreams and unreachable places in this world.And sorrow, what is it?
People by the lake, if you pass by side by side, will there be a kiss suddenly, and then you will smile.Whether what I say is really what I think, the words are the voice of the heart, or the heart just walks away, covered in dust, or deliberately spreading fog, in this world, they are part of nature.Intentionally or unintentionally, a cloud of dust is left behind.I'm saying, it's still language, it's still soul, nothing, it's okay, there's no power to stop them from happening.

What is it that never stops?
Hey, moonlight, solitude, warm summer nights and dreary winds.

Hello, darkness, my old friend~
Should we wave hello to it?No, my friend, just know it's there.

From now on, no more "finding happiness", all the way, it's somewhere.

I often refer to "dream circulation" or "babbling", which stands in front of me and says: Welcome, this is the kingdom of dreams, and the language of dreams is used here.If you don't believe me, think about it.

I don't know what I will hear in Feiyang's fantasy dream. I am the boatman, crossing to the shore, and watching them walk into the mist with cold eyes... I am by the roadside, a girl in the evening wind, silent.

A rich world moves and flows, a silent world I am silent.

February 6, evening

(End of this chapter)