Balcony

The sun was swept by the long wind and dust of spring, wiping away its original brilliance, just like a silver mirror, hanging in the East sky of April; Even the mirror was not as good as it was, muddling away and not invisible, you can also turn a blind eye to it. Therefore, the sundries on the balcony sparkled, presenting their colors and hearing their whispers. A wooden square armchair that I often sit on is full of clothes, cotton-padded jacket to be washed, leaf green sweater and purplish red coat for my wife. There is also a new outfit whose son seems to smell of firecrackers. Squeeze them, then you can sit down and support them. This orange chair was moved in the old house and was one of the houses we didn’t buy much when we were newly married. In the late 1990 s, there was a new bed, a new cabinet with a single door, a leathery floor with brown round square pattern, a dark blue wall mirror with two square meters on one side, and two hearts that were hurt and complained from time to time. Within 15 square meters of the former residence, mother’s spirit Gray was on the roof, witnessing our marriage; She also blessed her grandson, who was born soon and grew up. I looked up at the sun, and I could still see him; I could also see him at night and at midnight. He was everywhere. There is also a washing machine on the balcony where I lowered my head, which was bought after a long time of marriage. Now it is old, and its drying bucket will lose its rules from time to time, shaking very specially, A heart that is somewhat similar to a hidden disease or has already been ill, making frightening or at least worrying noises. Fortunately, the industrious wife was very good at recuperating and turned it off quickly. After it was normal, she got rid of a lot of moisture on the clothes calmly. In the end, those clear and bright laundry water should be put away extravagantly, and listen to them flowing away from the tunnel. They seem to be pure water, but still contain alkali. They can’t be used to raise fish or water flowers. It’s a pity. These fish raised in the crude bowl once died six or five heads when I changed the clear washing water. Looking at their petite bodies and bitter eyes, floating in the water in the cake box, I was numb and didn’t dare to see more. I also threw it away quietly, let alone my son. Fish, don’t dare to use other water any more, and put that bigger fish somewhere else uneasily. A few days have passed. Today, it seems that other fish are OK, so I put the big fish back into the cake box. But the new water was changed again, fearing that the soul of the dead fish would tarnish the fresh breath of the living. The vitality of the grass and a pot of green vegetables is far greater than that of them. They don’t use much water and come back in spring one after another. The green vegetables are the most prosperous and full of the moon, as if they were I am in the countryside, what I saw everywhere were green and pink, layers and pieces, which were also full of my balcony, just like my family at this time, and my thinking and writing. The drought Lotus really wanted to die, but looking down carefully, she broke the ground and sprouted, and did not die in the harsh winter; I shouted to my wife, telling her the secret, but she lifted a handful of fresh loess with her hands, carefully sealed it quietly, as if talking to herself, pitiful and mysterious: this can protect the sprouted buds. I not clear. Alas! I don’t know how these secret words, the mysterious world, can be found with concentrated eyes, and how magical words can be expressed. Like (prose editor: drops of ink become wounds) the snow in spring

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