After returning from a graduation trip, something changed. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

BJ came a sandstorm, a rare summer sandstorm, a rare vision that seems to herald our mysterious future.

Fu Wenxin and I are no longer as suspicious as before, and often joke together with a hippie smile. Occasionally crossing the street and seeing a car coming, I would gently hug her and signal her to be careful.

She smiled warmly at me and gave me the whole world.

Geng Hao painted a group of oil paintings called "Life", using brilliant colors to interpret Zang Min's simple face.

This group of oil paintings has been affirmed by many old-timers in the art world, and a little old man who lives in Songzhuang is about to earthquake when he stomps his feet in calligraphy and painting, and Lao Yu takes a good look at him and accepts him as a closed disciple.

Soon Lao Yu decided to live in seclusion in Dali, and since he had no heirs, he left his property, the studio, to Geng Hao. Geng Hao became the first of us to have a private property in BJ.

After Yuan Zheng's introduction, Yin Deji went to the five-star hotel of Yuan Zheng's father's friend, and put forward his understanding and views on cooking, which was deeply valued by the boss, and his salary doubled again and again like the GDP of a socialist country.

Lu Zejun no longer ignores Xu Lu, and when he is happy, he asks Xu Lu to have a meal and watch a movie or something, Xu Lu is full of joy, like a satisfied child. Although she knew that she couldn't capture Lu Zehuan's heart, she was still considerate of him in every way.

Yuan Zheng chased Wen Xin even more frantically, firstly because graduation was imminent, and secondly because this guy was almost hanging in the mountains of Kangding, and he had a more positive understanding of life.

He sent things to Fu Wenxin every day, courtship letters, flowers, cosmetics, and bags...... Fu Wenxin only accepts his courtship letter, and does not accept anything else.

I asked her why.

She said that courtship letters are worthless, it's fun to read, and she doesn't charge anything valuable, which is the dignity of a woman.

However, the biggest change we didn't expect was Yang Chenjun.

He got back together with his ex-girlfriend, who was interning at an accounting firm in BJ, and asked him out all day long, like living in a honey pot.

With the end of Yang Chenjun's virginity, the "flowing sperm years" of my senior year are coming to an end, and I am still a stubborn and pure virgin. I don't know when there are already one or two yellow leaves on the tall trees on the campus, and the season is approaching autumn.

Our university life will come to an end in the hot and dry air in August, when the coolness has not yet arrived in the capital.

The dry wind of early autumn blows hot memories, but it can't blow away a wisp of sad thoughts. Knowing that he still uses the last shred of strength to wail, sacrificing everything we have.

Parting is not the end, but a new beginning, a reborn transformation, and the transformation will always be slightly painful.

Kundera's words are realistic and cruel: the gathering is for parting. It's been almost four years, and I'm used to this windy city, and the memory warehouse is full of gray high-rise buildings, sloppy alleys, and uncles and aunts singing in the Beijing accent.

What do we leave behind? Let the newly planted plants tell the story, they indifferently record the traces of time, and people cannot be like plants that take root in one place forever.

We left, leaving behind a hot youth, a record of the "West Side," a poster from Jackson, a beer bottle, the aftermath of a school ballad, and bundles of worn-out textbooks.

The bicycle grows and flourishes in memory, crawling over the walls of memory like a creeper, and it obscuribly inherits the hope of the nostalgic in the corner of the campus.

I can't live without a bicycle at a slightly drunk age, my bicycle is a mountain bike, and Fu Wenxin, Fang Xiao, Yuan Zheng, Yang Chenjun and a 208-pound fat man who went to the library to let me take his law department were seated in the back seat.

When carrying the big fat man, both tires of the bicycle burst at the same time, and the rear tire rim was completely deformed. He and I fell on the side of the road on our backs, and passers-by laughed. The fat man got up and said, "Dude, you're too heavy." ”

Fu Wenxin sat in the back and always gently pulled the corners of my clothes, Fang Xiao always gently hugged my waist, Yang Chenjun was the most honest and didn't grab anything with his hands in the air, he had never been in a car accident, and his balance ability was very strong, he praised me for my good driving skills, and I acquiesced.

Yuan Zheng always hugged my waist stiffly, trembling with fright, I said ** how can I be the same as a little woman, how much do you not believe in my driving skills.

He said, it's not that I don't believe in your driving skills, your broken car doesn't have an ESP electronic stability system, does it have an ABS anti-lock braking system, can I not be afraid?

Seeing his cheap old man, he braked suddenly, turned him upside down, and said that he was wrong.

The bicycle pierces the tranquility of Mirror Lake, it passes through the boulevard of willows, through the deserted public parish, and through the lonely heart of the cyclist.

Youth needs love, and when the bicycle is ridden too fast, it suddenly realizes that it is time to stop, only to find that it is parked at an intersection with no direction.

Basketball, already scarred, recalls the glorious days of chasing the wind day by day.

Yuan Zheng's guitar was sealed in the corner of the dormitory, sad and secret, and the five strings were like five hermits who were unwilling to be lonely, waiting to be plucked. In the past, the aftermath of "Glorious Years" and "White Birch Forest" lingered, and the people downstairs were eagerly looking for the source of the sound, but they didn't see anything.

"The flowers are similar every year, but the people are different every year", the ferns on the campus are dying and flourishing every year, and the limericks on the desks are also renewing and multiplying like plants, and they are anxiously waiting for the next poet to interpret and continue.

People are gone, poems are still there, where are people? Far away in the world, close at hand. The physical distance cannot be crossed, but the spiritual distance can be infinitely shortened.

The Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes says, "One generation passes, and another generation comes, but the earth endures forever." The sun rises, the sun sets, and returns to the place from which it came. The wind blew to the south, and then to the north, and it spiraled and fell, and it turned back to its original path, and all the rivers turned into the sea, but the sea was not satisfied, and the rivers flowed from whence they returned. "There are still traces of the previous graduates on the grass.

Taking pictures is the civilized behavior of human beings to resist amnesia, the grass green is the true color of life, the grass and graduates embellish each other, the mutual assistance of life and life, and the power of intimidation, it is a moving life portrait.

Because we are young, we can laugh at the rivers and lakes and be proud of the book; Because you are young, you can get up again if you fall.

Only the "deceased" would stand on the balcony of the campus with such affection and look up at the not unfamiliar sky, and only the most essential attachment in the heart at the time of parting can be evoked.

Youth is fragile, it is like the tender teeth of early spring, and we need to build a heavy fence around it.

When I graduated, I got together every day, in the class, in the department, in the college, in the school group, between teachers and students, in lovers, in fellow countrymen, and in the same person. Drunk dreams and death, we can't come in vain in the past four years, and we always want to leave something.

Under the bed board, on the wall, and on the toilet squatting position, it was all so-and-so who had been squirting here for four years, and so-and-so had been in love and hurt here for four years, but he was pretentious but could understand.

What can we leave behind? Now that I think about it, I have left more regret than sweetness. Although I have never been a pretentious "slut", I always feel that my college life lacks the "cheap" element, that is, the recklessness of love. I was too cautious, like walking in a museum full of antiques, for fear that my elbow would break a thousand-year-old treasure, and in the end, I would become an antique. Intact, but what's the use? Who is it for?

At that time, we believed that happiness was not about countless credit cards or countless luxurious villas, but about spiritual promise and purity of thought. We are all doing what we want to do, but there are things that cannot be qualitatively changed by the struggle between you and me.

Society has been progressing, but humanity has been standing still.

August is bright, but the mood is gloomy.

In August, the thin youth will bear the bulging bags.

August, that will be the season of tears "devaluation".

The words of graduation are always so similar, and the words of graduation are always so rich. The cypress is green, the birds are flying, time is flowing, thoughts have stopped, and the water is poor, who is picking up the memory fragments scattered in the newly renovated campus in the south of the city.

Graduation is a dream, and the scene in the dream is haunting.

When, a small note appeared on the bulletin board that read, "Graduating soon, transfer the bike at a low price", like a weak leaf that has just fallen.

All of this will become our memories.

Memories are like looking down at your standing feet, which makes people feel at ease. Memories are the source of my dignity and the strength of my life.

Sometimes I stand on the top floor of the teaching building and look at the remnants of the old city wall, thinking of my uncle and the group of students who were once reluctant to kneel, for their dreams, this ancient city wall, like an indifferent bureaucrat, in this era when it is not suitable to talk about dreams, looking down on all living beings, more contempt and deterrence.

BJ, can we accommodate our dreams, I think.