Walking Through Villages and Alleys to Hear Ghost Stories

The ghosts in the old alleys are all mixed up in the fireworks. There are always people sitting on the empty benches at the shoe repair stall, nursery rhymes are counting fingernails behind the broken wall, and the bowls and chopsticks at the wonton stall are being knocked by oneself at three in the morning. The candy seller, the night watcher, and the sunbathing guy, their eyes lit up when they talked about these things, as if they were talking about yesterday's events—— The white shirts on the clothesline will run away, the lights in the corridor always go out at the third step, and the old clock is stopped, waiting for the cry on rainy nights. Where is the ghost? It is the care that has not been expressed, the obsession that has not been let go. It's cold in the alley tonight. Come and listen to something that can get into your bones?