Title: A day is longer than a year, and the world is just a corner.
It’s another lazy Friday, there is no sunshine in Beijing today.
Remembering yesterday, it suddenly cleared up and the temperature soared. The sunshine suddenly felt like June, and it felt a faint sting on my face. On the way to class on foot, I was surprised to find that several unknown plants outside the sports field had sprouted tender green buds overnight, heralding the unveiling of a new life. The lawn, which had been eclipsed all winter, gradually began to show patches of jagged green, full of vitality.
Spring happens overnight.
This is my first spring in Beijing.
People always give too much meaning to the word "first spring". A few days ago, my girlfriend told me excitedly but shyly that she had met her first love. I still vaguely remember the blush on her face at that time, like the intoxicating peach blossoms I saw by the river that afternoon. I silently bless her in my heart, hoping that this spring will continue her life forever as time goes by. For me, the first spring may not have such rich meaning, but this spring can make me unforgettable.
Beijing is such a strange city.
Beijing is a very familiar city.
Recently, I am particularly sensitive to the word "Beijing Drift". I think I am also a drifter in the north; although, compared to those people who are trying to make a living, my life is a hundred times better than theirs. But we are all the same, drifting, and Beijing has no roots for us. When I was a child, I would stand blankly at the other end of the iron fence, peeking through the densely packed small mesh at the sky that was curled up at the other end, and seeing that they were divided into regular squares, like ice cubes made by myself in summer, showing pure colors. Very stubbornly, I put my little hand through the same small gap in the fence, trying to pull off the same cluster of blue flowers. But they always accidentally disturbed Dandelion, who was sleeping quietly beside them, and started their journey early. They are as fluffy as they are, using only a small point to maintain contact with home, and are always ready to set off. I don’t know if they were involuntarily or where they were going. I blew on them hard, and my face turned red when I blew on them. When the wind carried them to a place so high that it became the same color as the sky, I became quiet again and stared blankly at the sky, looking at the purity and the unknown distance that only belonged to dandelions.
What is their distance like? It should be as blue as the sky.
Where is the distance? Go north.
I am a child from the south, but I think I belong to the north. I don’t know why, but I feel extremely sure. I love snow, but I have never seen it; I want to see the vast plains, but I always wander in the rolling mountains. Therefore, I have always wanted to go to the north, where I can see the vast plains of snow and the distant land of dandelions. So,In the summer of 2005, with a notice, I came to the north, a Beijing that was too big for me.
Mom said, one day you will grow wings and fly away, leave me.
I think, I just came to find my own world.
Everyone is wandering with their own little dreams. There is a scene in "The Pianist at Sea" that I will never forget: those Europeans gathered on a small deck, about to arrive in New York. They raised their heads, confused in the sea fog. And there is always a lucky person who is the first to see the Statue of Liberty standing in the distance, and then uses all his strength to burst out a word that makes everyone excited "America". Then, whether it was the proud top hats of the gentlemen, the soot-stained peaked caps of the workers, or the wide-brimmed hats decorated with flowers of the originally reserved ladies, they were all thrown into the air at the same time, breathing the air of New York, USA. They were a group of gold diggers who went to the United States to seek the world. Watch their joy I was so excited that my whole body was infected. The first time I saw Beijing was in the train. Through the thick glass windows, through the inexplicable heavy fog that fell at 5 o'clock in the morning, and the love words of the wheels and railway tracks that lasted for two days, and the uneasy restlessness of the crowd, there was a silence in Beijing. I think this should be the tranquility that belongs to a big city. So, my slightly restless heart became quiet. The quiet morning calmed down: this city, which is steeped in antiquity but surrounded by modernity, feels like home to me. Finally I stepped onto the platform in Beijing. I took a deep breath of the moist air that was rare in Beijing that day, and then said to myself, I have arrived. Next to me, a familiar old woman carried a heavy pole full of Fujian specialties. She was walking alone. She was in the same carriage with me; her destination was Inner Mongolia. She still had to wait at Beijing Station, and her journey was not over yet. She still had to wander. In the carriage, she told me that it was not easy to wander in Beijing. So, her son went to Inner Mongolia, and she followed him. The old lady wandered further north, and I stopped.
