A few days ago, after I published the Text of the Road, the wooden fence connecting two six-story buildings caught my attention. The projector put it on the road and slowly passed through the wood. The shadow of the sun drew attractive parallel gold stripes in the painting, just like a beautiful black end seen at the end of the Renaissance. I'll go as soon as I go, and Li Feng will watch on the plate.
Now, what is surrounded by the fence is the comic song and dance venue that was burned down in June 1839 two years ago.
At 2 o'clock in the afternoon, it was very hot and the road was empty.
A gray door, probably a single door with a bulge on both sides and a depression in the middle, with rococo decorations on it, may be the door of the women's apartment of Ada intelligent young woman 0/00 years ago, installed on the fence. Just bring a small bolt and it will open. I went.
It's neat and bright, very desolate The mortar on the floor is all big stones abandoned in waiting, such as pale tombstones and moldy ruins. There is no one in the market. There are no traces of smoke and flames left on the walls of the neighboring houses.
However, this land has been destroyed for two consecutive springs after the fire. At the corner of its trapezoid, there is a huge green rock, an extended worm and a centipede buried in the basement. In the shade behind the boulder, some grass grows.
I sat on the rock and looked down at the plant. Oh, my god The most beautiful little daisy grows in the world, and a lovely little flying bug flies back and forth around the beautiful daisy.
Cao Hua quietly let this kind of growth better follow the laws of nature. In the soil, in Paris, on two streets, two steps away from the palace, four steps away from the arena, between the cavalry, pedestrians, shops, taxis, the king's stagecoach and wagons, the gorgeous flowers and the flower fields near that street aroused my endless reverie.
Ten years ago, who could have foreseen the day when the future president appeared in the daisy!
If this land is only next to the ground, there is nothing but many houses, that is, real estate owners, tenants and janitors, and residents who carefully put out the candles on their beds at night, then a flower field will never grow here.
How many things have been condensed by flowers, how many failed and successful performances, how many bankrupt people, how many accidents, how many adventures, and how many disasters have fallen at once! For the people who are attracted to us at night, the flowers that appeared in front of us two years ago will make this group stunned and regard them as ghosts! How fate plays tricks on people's maze, how mysterious it is, is still clean after all, and this light shines into the little yellow sun in all directions!
There is a need for a theater and a fire, that is, a happy city and a horrible city. It is one of the most beautiful inventions of mankind and one of the most terrible natural disasters. Thirty years of screaming and 30 hours of flames only allow the daisy to grow, thus winning the joy of flying insects!
The most insignificant thing is often the most important thing for the observed person.
daisy
Passing Wenxian Road the other day, a wooden fence connecting two six-story high-rise buildings caught my attention. It is projected on the road, and the sunlight draws lines on the shadows through the loosely assembled boards, just like the charming parallel gold stripes seen on the beautiful black satin of the Renaissance. I approached and looked into the crack.
Today, this fence surrounds the old site of the Funny Song and Dance Theatre. Two years ago in June, 1839 was burned down.
At 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was hot and the road was empty.
A gray door, probably a single door, with convex sides and concave middle, with rococo decoration, may be the boudoir door of a young woman who fell in love with Joe a hundred years ago. It is installed on the fence. Just lift the plug gently and it will open. I went in.
Tragic, extremely desolate. There are mud and stones everywhere, and they are left waiting there, as white as tombstones and as moldy as ruins. There is no one in the field. There are obvious traces of flames and smoke on the walls of adjacent houses.
However, this land has been destroyed for two consecutive springs after the fire. At the corner of its trapezoid, under a boulder that is turning green, there is a basement where insects and centipedes are buried. In the shade behind the big stone, some grass grows.
I sat on the stone and looked down at the plants. Oh, my God! There grows a most beautiful little daisy in the world, and a lovely little flying insect dances around it.
This grass flower grows quietly and follows the beautiful laws of nature. In the soil, in the center of Paris, between two streets, two steps away from the palace, four steps away from the cavalry arena, between pedestrians, shops, taxis, public carriages and the king's four-wheeled splendid carriage, this flower, the flower of the field near the street, aroused my endless reverie.
Ten years ago, who could have predicted that a daisy would grow there one day!
If there is nothing on this site except many houses, just like the ground next to it, that is, real estate owners, tenants and janitors, and residents who put out candles carefully before going to bed at night, then flowers in the field will never grow here.
How many things this flower embodies, how many failed and successful performances, how many bankrupt families, how many accidents, how many adventures, how many sudden disasters! For those of us who are attracted to live here every night, if this flower appeared in front of our eyes two years ago, these people would definitely regard it as a horrible ghost! What a tricky maze fate is, how many mysterious arrangements, in the final analysis, finally turned into this clean and pleasing little yellow sun!
There must be a theater and fire, that is, the joy of a city and the horror of a city. One is the most beautiful invention of mankind and the other is the most terrible natural disaster. Thirty years of laughter and thirty hours of rolling flames can grow this daisy and win the joy of this flying insect!
For an observant person, the smallest thing is often the most important.