The sun rises a few degrees and the stars fall geometrically. The town is like a sleeping child in the dust. It has been silent for twenty years.
Mother is always rambling about the story of this town. In her fragmentary description, I gradually understand that when time is approaching and the scenery is constantly changing, there will still be a place that clings to its slow pace and crawls forward. Days are like the rain after the rain, the town is still a town, and the road is still the gravel road, but it has been washed white in the years, just like being old.
I have complained more than once that the speed of the town is so slow that it almost stops. When groups of people with dreams fled this dilapidated town, I wish they could take me away to places called cities.
So, I embarked on a journey to the south. All the way south, pursuing those colorful legends. When I arrived in the city of dreams, my heart was like a flower in bud, quietly blooming in the brilliant night sky. In the stone forest, there is a bright light. I think that's where I want to go. The rhythm of the city is like a high-pitched song, which is full of blood in my body.
However, when the high housing prices make me flinch, when the numbers on the taxi meter soar and my heart suddenly tightens, when luxury hotels are full of delicacies and some people have no food, when people walk by with a straight face and feel sad, when dusty construction workers climb dangerous buildings and sweat profusely and feel sympathy ... it's like taking a breath in hot and dry weather.
Poverty is poverty after all. When it meets wealth, it is not ecstatic, but more ashamed. The turbidity and clarity of the river are always two completely different extremes.
After all, I returned to the familiar hometown that once made me complain. There are no colorful foreign markets, no towering skyscrapers, no criss-crossing highways, only the smell of familiar towns.
The smell of the town is a painted gravel road. Stepping on it will make a crisp sound of "squeaking", which is a nursery rhyme that has accompanied me for more than ten years.
The smell of the town is blue sky and the clouds are like satin. When you look up at it, you will suddenly forget your troubles and feel relaxed and happy. That is a kind of heroism that contains anxiety.
The smell of the town is a picture scroll surrounded by green water people. Smoke curled up from the kitchen, grass was everywhere, morning glory and flat bean curd bloomed everywhere inadvertently, whispering happily in the swaying wind.
The smell of a small town is the harmonious homesickness of good neighbors' friendly exchanges. Shuttling through the alley outside, the oncoming smiles and greetings are like the gentle wind, flapping on the face, blowing into the ears, blowing into the heart.
Yes, the town is walking slowly. It always takes it in stride, does not admire the prosperity of the city, and does not denigrate its own humbleness. The town is like a bowl of mild water, rippling with the reflection of blue tiles and white walls, nourishing the temperament of the villagers' neighborhood and humming the dream of flying freely.
In the eyes of small-town people, the slowness of small towns is just right. Although they can't compare with the life of wearing gold and silver in the city, they live more calmly and elegantly than the city people, without constant hard work and all-night suffering. People in small towns happily ride horses and walk in the wind of time every day. That is, elegant and slow life.
I don't know when it started. I gradually like this slow city and get used to its slow speed. Standing on that white gravel road, I saw people smiling at me. I know there is such an emotion, which is as classical as a thousand-year-old temple, as fresh and tender as a touch of goose yellow grass in spring, as clear as a bridge built by curved stars.
How many degrees do the stars fall when the sun rises? The town is still sleeping sweetly, sticking to its slow pace, walking forward undisturbed and staying in the almost disappearing scenery.