Among all the ancient alleys, the door is the most seductive eye. Sometimes the rugged path of the slab path was softly lightened, and the drowsy sleep of Wei Mi was not publicized, let alone revealing his gaze, and was quiet like that. As if the story of the old bricks and bricks in the alley is as old as yellow leaves, it will drift into a dotted smooth line at any time in the autumn wind.
In the mottled sunlight, only the windows in the alley were open. Of those scales that are so high that they can't be reached by jumping, or memory, only memory is enough. In that memory, there was that grass that was green and angry, the wicker Yiyi was brisk. This memory can be read from the volume of poems in the boudoir of the big family who never appeared in the courtroom. The cautious interpretation of this memory must be like unraveling a foot wrap, and trying to make the movement as light as possible, in order to peel off a woman's bound beauty and smallness.
The man admired the graceful posture of such little feet, but did not know that all the little footprints were filled with painful shouts. This beautiful pain is only known by this uneven road. He shuddered his body to show sympathy. This boiling fierce flow nowhere, the slate suddenly became cracked. This is like Zhuang married man's hoe, a wound that was dripping with blood when he accidentally fell on his head. The pain was sore that there were blue tendons in his hands. Only in March is the spring rain as thin as green silk, or the catkins flying in the sky, and the tears of a woman who is sorrowful and heartbroken by the window, can barely walk through it, leaving a trace of gentle comfort.
A woman's heart no longer desires, but also sees no blood and struggle sympathy. All the women in the alley closed the door that should have been open. Women who are already in the door will not come out, and women who have not yet entered will not be able to enter. Looking from a distance, there is only the back and the closed door left in the alley. If you listen carefully again, stick your ears against the moss on the slate, stick your ears to the thick stone wall, the dampness of the air after the rain, or lean directly against a woman's shadow against her The undulating breasts must be audible, and love is shouting familiar names one after another.
In this name, there are Zhu Yingtai, Cui Yingying, Tang Wan, Li Qingzhao ... Lin Huiyin, Zhang Ailing, Ding Ling ... and many other grandmothers in cheongsams who don't know their names. My aunt in satin ...
We can't give them a lot of enclosures according to right and wrong, draw symbols as a record, and give them different categories. But the row of doors in the alley took over. Woman, inside the door, outside the door. If you deliberately investigate the weight of a door, it is nothing more than the dual status of love and marriage.
Love locked in the door, marriage locked in the door. They looked at each other, came out to each other, struggled with each other, and comforted each other. Don't joke that a woman in the door of love longs to open the door to marriage. Not to laugh at a woman outside a marriage door yearning for a door of love.
There is no right or wrong difference between love and marriage, only the difference between morning and evening. This is understood by people outside the door of marriage and by people in the door of love. Because they understood, they thanked the door that closed early, because the door gave birth to many stories. Because of these stories, time is getting old, old is a kind of memory, old is a kind of image, a simple and simple alley.
One day, the old alley was really old and could not walk anymore, so old that there was only a lonely eye. We can only read his one eye with one heart. Those still eyes still looking at us.
Read and read, the alley is young ...