The sky in March is half gloomy and half clear. The sun peeked out half of its face from behind the dark clouds, shining its light on the wet earth. Walking through the alleys of Jiangnan, it feels like a quiet rainy night. At that time, I was sitting in front of the window, and there was a continuous drizzle outside. The flash of lightning reflected the raindrops hanging slanting in the garden very clearly, and there was the sound of thunder and thunder. This lively night easily aroused my curiosity. I opened the window to take a closer look, and a fresh breeze blew in my face. I saw the trembling and wet leaves of the sweet-scented osmanthus. Although I couldn't see clearly from a distance, the lightning streaking across the sky was extremely clear, as if it was very close at hand, striking directly from the top of my head. After the thunder stopped, several resentful tones came intermittently, and I suddenly realized that they were sorrow and music, representing the death of a certain life...
When I was a child, I often sat on abandoned stones and stared in a daze. At that time, white goats passed by me one after another. They had different shapes according to different age groups, some had long beards and horns, and some were innocent and naughty. I suddenly had a strange and still unsolvable idea: They are also living lives, why are I a human and they are sheep? What if I were a sheep? Is it possible not to follow all human rules? As I grew up, I gradually no longer struggled with this issue. More often, I would inadvertently think of all the things I had experienced as a human being. Some may have been forgotten, but some have always lingered in my mind and cannot be forgotten. Over time, they accumulate in the chest like a flood ready to go.
When I wrote them down, the flood was finally released, and I felt like I was in the past, and my heart was filled with peace.
