Their children

DearDiary:

Can people manipulate their memories?

If not, where do those self-deceiving whitewashes and comforts come from?

If so, why do we remember only the trivial details of many important events? The protagonist's face, who was so vivid that it could not be ignored and blocked from the camera of the years, became blurred.

Have I really met him?

Do you really feel it, my mother clenched my hand and slowly said: "Luo Luo, look, that little boy is their child."

Their children.

The red flying shards of firecrackers, cheesy and colorful ribbons, floated in the noisy voices. I don't remember any guests coming and going, but I can always think of a vague aunt who leaned down and asked us children-is the bride beautiful? Do you want to be a bride in the future?

Everyone made a long voice, thinking-

But these insignificant little movements, smells, and tone words, like a soft hand, gently clinging to my heart. All the feelings at that time came back to life with these minutiae, as if the soul is still living in that short body at this moment, being pushed around by crowded guests, trying to pass through the noisy joy, to piece together a fresh and contradictory world.

At that time, the world in my eyes was still full of chaotic and irrelevant fragments.

It's the things that don't matter.

It is precisely these trivial things.

What I have been obsessed with for so many years turned out to be these, not the person.

——From Luo Zhi's diary

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