one

It was a restless summer a few years ago, and on a hot night, you suddenly said that you wanted to go for a walk in the northwest, with a little heroism in your words. I'm not surprised you said that. I just shook your head full of "black grass sticks" and said that the romantic in your heart is too fierce. Although Polaris always points to the north, the north is not where everyone goes. You tossed and turned for a crowded, tired and excited night. The next day, you left, and I was still in that ulterior dream. You also left a few old parting words, because you and I are used to this parting lie. The only thing I can remember is that there is a sentence on the note you tore off from your diary in a hurry: "True love is a desperate trip". You once said that the more you love the world, the more you feel the need to repay it. Although there are no genetic traits related to the northwest in your blood.

After you left, I soon found that it was an unforgivable fatal mistake not to remind you to bring proof or something. In this world, identity is often more important than the original real person who has been proved.

An unknown philosopher said that when people look down on everything in this world and the world itself, they will feel a little tasteless. People can walk around the world freely. Your youthful dream is too noisy and romantic, and it will always fall on some sleepless nights.

two

The hope of collar is exhausted, and you finally send a thin letter from Manas, a place far away in Xinjiang. The first time you set foot on the northwest land, you didn't say all kinds of mysterious and fresh feelings. You only told an interesting story about yourself. When you drive through Lanzhou, what you see is a thin mud belt that is several times more turbid than the flash floods in the south of your hometown. When someone told you that this is the Yellow River, you rashly jumped out with the phrase "Is this the mother of our nation?" All the passengers on the bus laughed happily, but you didn't say a word until you walked out of Urumqi Railway Station. Maybe from that moment on, you began to get used to silence and loneliness.

Some people don't know you, let you sit with them for a while, and then pass by too much. But your loneliness is not one of them. You always knew that.

Two paths diverged in the forest, and someone took a path that people seldom took, and life changed from then on.

three

Northwest man. You used to be a man in the south of the Yangtze River, but when the heavy snow suddenly spread wantonly in the northwest, you fell down-temporarily, of course. When you dragged the whip in the north wind and followed the sheep that were as frightened as you but still knew the way, you said that you even saw death coming to you. Perhaps from that moment on, you will know that if fate shows death prematurely, it is not a kind of happiness to enjoy or consume in advance, just as Schopenhauer said. Before that, you always believed that suicide was also a beautiful way to prove life.

Thousands of years ago, white clouds hung in the sky, blue to the depths of nothingness. The sun beat the paper deeply, and the desert buried the camel's sigh. Haizi, a 25-year-old genius from Peking University, committed suicide in Shanhaiguan and hanged himself and quietly left Sanmao Province, Taiwan Province. You and I both felt the tolerance and beauty of the world in an instant.

Ai Qing said: the living live well, and don't expect the earth to leave a memory.

four

The wind is blowing outside the window, and it is raining for no reason. I am reading your strange handwriting. I can't smell anything I used to know from your words. You said that when you were lying in the shepherd's yurt, the innocent and lovely Kazakh girl's hand that brought you water was your forever nest. You can remember her temperature, even though centuries have passed between you and her. You said you had more nights than days. Nobody talks to you about Kant, Sartre, Heidegger, Gretel, Ma Nadora, Ronaldo and C. You are lonely. You said you didn't really want to live like this, so your hand holding a pen still trembled slightly in the wind like a hand holding a whip. ...

The heart is fixed at a certain point, and it hurts alone and persistently in a position. Realizing the northwest is a kind of spirit. You develop as the origin, occasionally as transparent as glass.

There is the cleanest water in inaccessible places.

five

I want to help you unload some burdens and crowd out some loneliness, so I talk nonsense. I said that what I said in true love is always incredible and inexplicable, and your words are so absurd, so your desperate love for travel is only in your heart. I said that the truth in the world cannot be proved, and once the thought is spoken, it is a lie. All love that can be clearly stated is mixed with falsehood. You can't tell your love clearly, so your heart is real. You were comforted by my enlightenment, my enlightenment, my deception and my nonsense. What did you say you understood (in fact, you didn't understand anything)? You said that love is beautiful chaos, noble selfishness, serious absurdity, profound one-sided, pure deception and white lies. So you no longer have the feeling of original sin, when your eyes dissect the girl's smile and tell her everything.

The moonlight flowed outside the window, flashing all the time, and an elf was beaten into music. I don't know if anyone will accompany you.

six

A windy desert is not lonely, and a windless desert is not lonely. Soon, you told me this thing for no reason.

After reading it a thousand times, I am still a stranger. The summer monsoon has also become so complicated. I suspect that there are thoughts in the cracks in the northwest Gobi.

Many stories, many emotions and many abstract truths are stirring your life so violently. A heart that is no longer lonely, like a roof, looks up at the sky for a long time but is silent.

seven

After an unbearable silence, I received the only suffocating letter you gave me. At that time, the love of that land moistened you for a long time, and you really knew how to protect love with love. The earth is small, but the sun can't control it. That day, your lively Kazakh girl was knocked down by an unknown disease, and she didn't even have time to be sent from the source of Manas River to the affiliated hospital of Shihezi University, more than 60 kilometers away. At that moment, you thoroughly felt the weakness and smallness of your once conceited Jiangnan genius. A girl's extremely nostalgic pupil makes you feel heartbroken and trembling. You are restless for all kinds of absolutely powerful reasons that can completely liberate yourself. You said that there are too many loopholes in time, which can be loosely blocked, but you must not give up.

It is a crime to torture a person. How about a defenseless northwest love song?

From then on, He Duoqin's painting "Girl and Crow" will appear in your dream every night. The difference is that the crows released by death are getting darker and bigger, occupying almost all the girls' space ... You always hear wyndell dichinson's voice in your dreams, a crow in the desert, which makes you sleepless all night. You know it's not enough to be responsible for yourself, not to mention that you can't really be responsible for yourself?

The round sunset has been lured under the desert, and the night birds have covered everything on the earth under their wings. What the northwest lacks is not hope and spirituality, but many paleness and powerlessness like you, which have piled up into a desolate desert. Finally, you said that you would go back to the south, and when you really deserve that heavy love, you would double your love debt. You said that you can't face the desert forever and repeat the sad song of "girl and crow" all your life with a plain running account. Now that the sun has turned over, you should read the words behind it carefully.

What burns in the eyes is blood, but what turns a blind eye to the ground is water.

Water waves repeat a kind of ups and downs, rivers repeat a kind of broadness, and blood repeats a kind of burning.

eight

What appears in front of you and me is a fact that neither you nor I expected. In front of you, I feel that I will always be a mediocre reader, and you will always be at a height and depth beyond my reach. I was disappointed, so I stopped you at once. I said, when everyone else is flying south and flying southeast, you are traveling west, and you are lonely; And when the south craze begins to cool down, you will go back to the south, and you will be more lonely. And you have to bear the cross of secular incomprehension and spirit. What have you found or proved from black land to yellow land? Of all the roads, if you choose the muddy one, you should go on forever and never look back. Only in this way can you interpret a man's feelings bright, brilliant and orthodox. You walked halfway, but you came back in a hurry covered in mud. How to face the questions of travelers who turned around later? I said, in fact, you don't understand. You created a black loneliness for yourself. This world is not for you. Life is philosophy, not emotion.

Finally, I left the quotations of old Dante in Jiangnan. I know that at this time, anything that wants you to "be a good horse and not eat grass" is absolutely pale and powerless.

A beautiful ray of sunshine floats in the river of thought, constantly judging whether the sun rises or sets in the west. On many beautiful nights, we are afraid of the ordinary.

Why are you looking for something you know you can't find?

nine

You quickly answered me in your letter that my fatal mistake was that I didn't really understand you. What you really lack is not the courage to walk on that muddy road, but knowing that you lack the strength to wipe a good account on this road. You said that in the northwest, if you take shelter from the wind, there will be no place to live. You said to accept a lot of unhappiness and pain, just like a conductor smiling and shaking hands with a ticket cutter in front of a group of passengers.

The blue sky is full of confidence. The dream was so beautiful that she burst into tears. You go to machi to conceive a new world.

The flowing river is real, but it is not calm. Brilliant and tragic scenery dominates you.

ten

The bus has passed Lanzhou, and you no longer face the sigh of subjunctive mood from the Yellow River. You feel a sense of expectation gradually approaching you, completely covering you. Expectation is not fishing, but the scenery that has not been taken in.

Is it the heat in the northwest and the wind on the banks of the Yellow River that make up the background of your lonely northwest song?

Now, I stand here. Standing here alone.

I'm standing here looking at the lonely traveler who hurried out of the station, and I'm thinking: this man won't be Niushahe, will he?

Niushahe is your name.