After the Long Winter (Outside) Zhang Baotong compiled 2018.6.18

In the long winter, the north wind was bleak, everything withered, and there was a bleak scene everywhere, and even the moon seemed to be frozen and shrunk into a ball. Although there is sunshine in winter, the sunlight is also cold and cold, and I don't feel a trace of warmth. Therefore, people are looking forward to the arrival of spring.

After a long winter, suddenly one day, the day dawned earlier than usual, and although the temperature was still a little cold, the air seemed to be much brighter, as if to hint at something, call for something.

The air in spring is obviously different from winter, and the air in winter is always cold and cold, inhaled in the nose and cold in the heart. The scene in spring is different, with jagged red buds blooming on the branches, exuding a faint fragrance. Soon, the buds grow yellow-green fluff, forming a pale green halo in the sun, which is brilliant and colorful. This kind of caryophyllus blooms day and night, shades at noon, dews at night, blooms at the end of winter and spring, and is not tolerant of heat. In summer, the leaves turn dark and shade, but the leaves are mottled and blurred by the spring sun. When the spring flowers bloom, the entire tree glows during the day, exuding a translucent canopy. It's as if every piece of scenery can touch people's hearts.

Birds chirped happily and flew out of the trees in flocks, spreading the news of spring from the jungle to the woods everywhere. The cats are still curled up at the fire safety exit, not wanting to get up right away on this cold morning, knowing that the temperature will slowly warm up. They stared at the birds, waiting silently.

Although the air is cold and cool, it is exceptionally pure and clear. The sky was empty, the morning was shining, and there was a faint smell of turquoise in the air, and the smell of brown earth and blue sky. By noon, the temperature is slowly warming up, and a short-sleeved dress is almost enough. At lunchtime, I usually eat outdoors, sitting on a warm brick wall and basking in the sun. The breeze blew slowly from afar, blowing through my hair and blowing at the edge of my skirt. I squinted my eyes and quietly felt that everything blowing in the wind was so fresh and bright, very good smell, intoxicating.

It wasn't until today that I suddenly noticed that the flowers had quietly bloomed, and I was still wearing winter clothes. The daffodils smiled brightly before my eyes, the parrot tulips swayed their beak-like petals, and the pure white fragrant flowers hung from the dogwood trees like a bow on a girl's head. This refreshing and wonderful scenery is mesmerizing, as if it wants to give you a kind of seasonal beauty.

The evening temperature was very gentle, still a little cold, and I had to put on a thin jacket. When I got home from the subway, it wasn't dark yet. I could walk for hours, like a child playing street games with her friends, but I didn't want to join. When I got to work this morning, I left the window open. When I'm not at home, I can get in through the window in the spring, as if I used a big driver to lift the lid of a bucket of canned sardines like a roll roof, so that the air inside is the same as outside, like sleeping on the grass, the sheets are cold, and the quilt is warm. It wasn't until the light outside the window faded away that I closed it. It's the weekend and I think it's time for me to go to the car wash.

Translated by Yun Zhangbao on June 19, 2018

Touch me gently, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. When you touch my soft, smooth surface, it feels like you've turned on the screen on your computer. And I was sitting on the sky-blue stage of a sacred theater. A small cloud in the neighbor's tree seemed to stay on Jamie Durant's nose for a moment, then drifted away as it slid north. Other clouds, large and small, also drift together in one direction, and then drift away or up and down with the wind in pieces as usual.

The trees swayed their branches towards the clouds, laughing loudly at the clouds. Because trees have to grow on the soil, they have to take root and grow in the soil, so they think they are solid. And although the cloud can sometimes obscure the sun, it is only a drop of water. But the tree is also a cloud, and its green leaves are like slowly moving clouds. Trees grow, change, and grow old, like clouds in the sky.

I am nothing but a cloud of thoughts, feelings, and wishes. Am I not a fog that drifts everywhere? Do I not occasionally express a ridiculous idea when I have not anticipated it beforehand? In the breeze of love and the warmth of pity, am I not also a floating cloud drifting northward?

If the clouds were everything, and all things were clouds, wouldn't we all feel the wind blowing us here and then bringing us there? Would we be as solid as we imagined? Let me float freely, and I would like to sing to the sky. We are among many, let us breathe in the breeze and find our dear ones in the spirit.

I have closed the curtains now, and I feel wider and fresher. The operation is over. Applause is sweeping through the woods.