Have a voice

Have a voice

Reading Cao Wenxuan's "Root Bird"

The sun reluctantly cuts over the top to form two distinct colors. Most of the time is still immersed in the dim light. The small half evaporates with the warm yellow sunset. In the sun, the books holding are shining in golden colors.

The fingertips are still the rough texture of the pages of the book. If you don't turn over a page, you will make a "squeaky" sound, and your heart will be turbulent.

What it makes me see is the belief in a child's heart, a kind of inner voice.

The root bird is a child. When he is hunting in the forest, he has been hunting a white eagle. There is a piece of cloth on the eagle's claw. It is a girl's letter of help. However, this piece of cloth brought a completely different life to the root bird. He began to seek the girl from the West, all the hardships, all the way... just for a girl who didn't know if she existed.

I can imagine that in countless nights, the girl’s voice drifted into his dream again and again. How do you describe this voice? It is filled with the silence like the night, with a slight dampness, like a seemingly nowhere. I have seen the pain and helplessness of his being stolen from the purse; I have seen the anxious and bitterness of being deceived to the mine: I have seen his helplessness and sorrow after his father’s death; see if he should give up When he was sad and tangled. I think: The heart of the root bird has already regarded this girl as a dream, a dream that needs to be pursued and realized. He paid everything to achieve it, and the pain was already numb, and the fragments that were broken in the bottom of his heart had stabbed his chest, but he did not give up. The belief in his heart will always flow like the sun, never go out, the girl’s voice has been thrown into his mind, waving like a fantasies, pulling the heart he wants to give back to the starting point again, and then Again and again, the roundabout lingered in his ear.

The same feeling, in fact, we have all experienced.

How many times have been lost in disappointment, no direction, and pain has come. Confidence is like a piece of paper, shattered by ruthlessness, pieces of debris falling in the sky... Then those distant dreams come in one by one, and we are refreshed. And those dreams are actually like the voice of the girl in the heart of the bird, bringing eternal hope.

Maybe, you already have some forget, but maybe you still want to remember.

Maybe those voices have not yet come out of your dreams.

Third day: Sun Wei