A lot of people ask about my life, I take care of my desire to basically get close to my heart, and I love this simple home-and-house life that goes on day and night.
If you don't take care of business, there is no source of livelihood, like me, old and young, can you rely on very little savings to live a simple life? If there is a wish to come, it seems that it cannot stir up a thousand waves, I am the shore, freedom and contentment are all my time.
Every day, I woke up in front of the window surrounded by birdsong, got up, washed briefly, waited for my young master to get dressed, brushed his teeth, carried a school bag, and then, facing the cold wind, walked into the already noisy human world. Life is probably like this, too much is a vulgar day and night.
Most of the time I went up and down this road between my home and my little shop, and not once in a year I went far from an unfamiliar road, even though the city had a thousand roads.
Home, in fact, is a house rented to me, in this city want to have a house of your own how many years of hard work you have to pour? I don't want extravagantly, though yearning. For five years, this other person's house had become one with me, it was small, but it could contain all my joys and sorrows, a bed, a pair of sofas, a table with books and computers. The bed was made of unpainted old elm wood, the perimeter was painted with old and intricate patterns, not pretty, but it looked stable and sturdy, the sheets on the bed could not remember which winter the wife bought with very little silver, the cloth was not very good, I imagined that they might come from a passage in the distant Bible, I imagined that they were prepared for me without being stained by anything, I imagined the happiest shroud in a particularly pure situation. Although the bed was very wide, the books occupied a third, most of which were the son's story books, which looked messy or even chaotic, but this did not affect the internal order. In this house, there is no religion, no luxury, no luxury, only the most intimate guards. Of course, the table, the sofa, and the coffee table were all once available in this house, and I didn't spend much silver to buy anything.
Speaking of small street shops, I am actually the least willing to go, but a serious life must be serious, first of all, I have to feed myself. Although the store does not operate mountain treasures and seafood, it is also done with heart and aesthetics every day. A few days ago, I saw the small dishes in the shop next door selling quite happy, so I went with my friends to learn pickles, went to the market to buy a jar, and went to the supermarket to purchase according to the friend's formula, wash, dry, pickle, and finally install the altar, in this long process there are too many moments to like these cumbersome cooking. But I know that this is just a turn of the like, like last year's suppressed meat, those unpredictable destinations in the future are always beyond the reach of my layman. People say that these things must be taken slowly, and I also know that the time and shade part of the world need to be wasted, and this part of the void can be appropriately put into some decadence and laziness or even 'misdeeds'. Part of the time is to come and go in a serious way, to sow seeds, to reap.
I don't like not to allow many things to invade my quiet, whether it is the way of reading, the way of traveling, I hate the sense of impermanent aggression, I cannot allow life to carry a desperate destruction like a gambler.
I don't need solace, I see what I live as a migration, a self-indulgent endless migration, or a ritual of active and inert reincarnation, I do not hesitate to bet on all my fate, I am homeless, I am sometimes hungry, I want to say goodbye, talk to myself, I test my ability to come back from the dead over and over again in the carnival of the masses. These early years of uninhibitedness now seem to exude idleness and depravity.
Now, I am old and decadent, old-eyed, but still indulging in the barrenness and fangfei of a word, still looking at the comings and goings of customers in the shop, and smelling the planting and harvesting of peppercorns.
My wife said; my desolate warmth was burned into a romantic delusion in the human world, and she said that I was surrounded by intense darkness and entanglement, the kind of quiet debauchery that was quiet to the bone.
Oh, dear, I am the shore, I am about to begin my narrative, in this affectionate winter, I can no longer squander my growing old days in a aimless way, I want to remember a feeling, this feeling must come from my personal destiny, just like you, I indulge it to roar and cry, allow it to be quiet and unreasonable, I accept it to happen intimately and clearly enough, to happen in my heart or in my words.
I have not seen the world, and all I see is the eaves of this house, so you have to accept the unreliable indulgence of Tadashi and the repeated fictions in the chapters of my apostasy.
My shore, if you come, you can come with sorrow, you can't wear Ayara, I don't like you to read me with a different aesthetic than mine, I will despise the non-spiritual thing that you just squat in the city and look at the world with the inertia of a pure housewife, as long as you wear a cloth coat, the warmth in your eyes can cover this fireworks red dust, I will know you. I will put down a room full of allure to meet you, put down the wine on the lips of the cigarette on my fingertips and sit down to tell you about the good I have seen and the lotus flowers blooming everywhere in the well background, and I will sing Yang Kun's [24th Floor], because tomorrow we will migrate again, to the other shore, to the 24th floor.