Writing in Mind

Tian Guiming's collection of prose and poetry. I have always been afraid of the word "collection". It's like gathering the four seasons into a cloth bag, fearing that they will get stuffy. Only later did I understand that the seasons breathe on their own: love exhales the lightest breath, life exhales the most choking smoke, the smell of country is the strongest, and the echo of history is the longest. So I spread them out on paper, like four rows of rice grains on a drying field, for you to pick up.