The South

Posted by ypingcn on January 27, 2019 Lastest updated on October 30, 2021

​ In the spring of 2013, I was in the south, in a drizzly small town.

​ At the end of the second lunar month, the red kapok flowers, which looked like fire before, had already fallen off.The element of green gradually flared up from its bare branches.

​ And other tree species that can be seen everywhere, those whose leaves had been blown by the cold winter wind, were streaming greenery with the company of other pioneer, the misty spring rain.

​ Just like the small, thin but unknown tree at the corner,there was little greenery at the beginning, and then, green spreaded out as if one night’s rain purified it, the tender green on the branches was charming enough to make someone into it.

​ My school was in the suburbs of town. Rows of low houses, which are traditional two-sided sloping house, can be seen by looking out of the classroom’s window.

​ In the early morning of late spring, thick yet light fog was often hanged in the air like a glass cover.

​ The village was full of the sound of silence, and just like a sculpture group that had peeled off its color in the time of life had stood erect for thousands of years.

​ The weed in the corner from green to yellow, from yellow to green again.The rain stains on the taupe wall from wet to dry, from dry to wet again and again.

​ The narrow lane was always filled with yellow dog’s lonely bark. Is he spending the remaining day or looking forward to the return of his master?

​ On the white even reflective road after raining, such a young child strided the thick short legs, raised hands slightly forward, tried best to chase the little brother’s bicycle ahead.

​ That’s an encounter. Over the farmland covered with green clothes all year round, I found a vigorous figure gliding and hovering.

​ He was a bird with all white body. He opened a pair of full-fledged wings and flited over and over again against the leaf apex of the crops, which made crops like water and he was lighter additionally.

​ Birds, who became the master of sky inborn, were luckier than us to take possession of blue sky.

​ When a string of sparrows hung on the electric wire woke up the morning with a clear twitter, there is the blue sky above the tablature. I cound not help but slow down , focus my vision, seeking to capture this magnificent picture.

​ In the south, there was a kind of beauty that makes the world quiet.