Don't slow down, turn a corner and pass your childhood

I flipped through "The Story of Changing Clothes" over the weekend, and after a long time of searching, I remembered that it was in "Rumors", and I only read it briefly before. "Walking between bamboo poles, with silk and satin walls on both sides", I have no impression of such a grand scene.

She has said so much about clothes. She has to ruthlessly expose the times that are melons, gorgeous, or mean and extremes, and even the pitiful hobby that people hide under clothes. Come. But near the end, she so easily forgave the young man in the trolley who was dressed in a different way and pretending to be so pretentious: it seemed ridiculous at first, but why not, if he liked it?

I also wrote here, and then I suddenly understood why at the end, she suddenly became out of bounds, as if in a trance, talking about the child riding a bicycle:

In the cool autumn evening, the stalls were closed in the small vegetable market, and the floor was full of fishy smell and the skin and slag of blue-white millet. A child rushed over on a bicycle, showed off his skills, let out a loud cry, loosened the handrail, swayed, and passed by lightly. At this moment, people all over the street were filled with unreasonable admiration. The loveliest moment in life is to let go of it?

You see those complicated fashions appearing in sequence. She counts the shortcomings of thousands of years, but it is just like opening the trunk of old clothes, patting the dust on them, and pinching off the mold that has already grown there. spot. Where is her meanness in clothes, they are just weak people hiding in clothes, and they are still haunted after thousands of years.

So she forgives the pretense, is it also because of the lust on other people's faces, and the ridiculous way of playing impatiently with the fake ivory pipe in her hand, thinking of the child who shows off his skills - life The cutest moment is to let go of it?

In comparison, those ghosts that have existed for hundreds of thousands of years should also let go of them happily. It's best to get out of your clothes, and you don't need to worry about whether people who come later will live in. People think that they have taken advantage of them, but they unexpectedly hide in a big trap.

At this point, the matter of clothes is finished, and the ghosts should be completely dissipated. There is only a small incident of a child riding a bicycle, which is always uneasy. When I rarely have such thoughts, I feel both pity and hate.

Sad, hateful, it's the same thing. I didn't dare to really let go, and I never did.

Recently, I often think of my friend's joking description of me, "I ride very steadily, and I can vaguely see good children." But when I first learned to ride, I was very happy. I was really like a child. Reluctant to be separated from the bike.

But I also discovered the fact that even if the wait is only a few seconds, people can't help but connect to their phones and naturally forget about their bikes. Only when the green light is on will it be taken seriously as a tool again. So that during the waiting period, smoking has become a retro behavior, and only a few people will keep it, as if they are getting along with the car quietly in this way.

"Don't slow down, or the car will stop, and you are bold enough to ride forward."

I didn't dare to ride too fast at first and struggled through other passing vehicles. The girl who was on the same road with me for a short time passed me and couldn't help turning her head and shouting at me. Then she took a detour to walk with me every day, just to teach me to "ride boldly."

One day after she left, I was surprised to realize that I could ride my bike just fine and free. But I really want to ride that road with her again.

We galloped as fast as the cars next to us, merging into the traffic and branching out at the fork. When the road is just me, there is only one person and one car left, and when I come to a corner, should I slow down?

"Don't slow down, or the car will stop!" I seemed to hear her voice, but there was no one in front of me, only the rustling of the wind in my ears.

This time I finally didn't hold on to the brakes and watched myself slant into another path.

At one point, I could even feel the bike off the ground and about to lose control. My heart skipped a beat, and I remembered seeing things shatter—imagining myself shattering with my bike, which I was both horrified and tacitly tacited about.

——The most lovely time in life is to let go of it?

But what's wrong with that road? In the twilight, the ground is full of messes. When no one cared, I finally passed by lightly.