Library

The old people in Tucun hate being industrious the most. They say that laziness is a fatal disease. Now, I can no longer avoid my laziness, because the stories from many years ago and the voices of childhood are gradually disappearing like dominoes. Sometimes, a fire hook, or a few worn pages of a book, will make me stay in the past when I am dozens of years younger than I am now, or in the rain or the wind. I am like a prematurely withered willow leaf, swaying on those stories, letting the emotional ripples wrap around me, sinking deeply, unable to extricate myself.

In the early morning, the entire courtyard looked like a stage, and with some light fog, it looked even more confusing. At this time, the eldest brother was squatting on a stubborn stone, covering his head, sharpening a knife. Huff, huff - the sound stepped on the rhythm, spraying out the special smell of iron and stone gnawing at each other, and then rolled out the door far away and merged into the airflow of various flavors. This well-proportioned rhythm inevitably reminds people of the Nanmanzi rock group that came to the village a few years ago to perform tricks. The rhythm during their performances was also like this, bang bang, bang bang... In other people's ears, the sound of the elder brother's persistence in sharpening the knife is of course both uniform and pleasant. But I'm just the opposite. It was a cleavage knife, as wide as a large oak tree, more than a foot long, with a patterned jujube wood handle, a crescent-shaped back, and two grooves on the back of the blade.

Hunger can drive you crazy and lose all passion. Indeed. Rural cartoonist Liu Depu used to be very good at talking to himself, talking to himself like a lunatic. This may be inseparable from his career in artistic creation. But my once wild imagination suddenly became dull. I don't know if it was due to my recent bad mood or hunger. In short, the several selves that could be separated in my heart were nagging each other so much that I don't know where they have shrunk now. Only the original aging self is left, abandoned at home by my wife who has been living in her parents' house for half a month. Every day, my stomach is empty and I am too lazy to cook. I glance at my face in the mirror on the wall, and it is all yellowish. So I smiled bitterly, laughed at myself secretly, and went to cook.