Reading outside the window is a kind of realm and pattern. The window is the eye of the house, my eyes, and the eyes of the world. Outside the window are different landscapes and different worlds. In the early morning when the sun rises, the sky is full of sunshine outside the window, and everything is awake; In the quiet of the night, the street lamps flickered on and off with the leaves, and the sound of the train grinding against the tracks not far away came. Whether it's a glorious spring, a snowy winter, a noisy summer, or a light autumn day, there is always a charm outside the window.
In the dead of night, the window is the eye of the soul, and the bright moonlight outside the window, the rustling of leaves, and the street lamps that flicker and flicker as the leaves swing will create a strange world.
The world at this time is quiet, free, and ethereal. The moonlight can speak at this moment, and will tell you about the moonlit night of the Yangtze River in the spring of more than 1340 years ago, and Zhang Ruoxu who was fascinated by the moonlight of the Spring River in front of the window. Only at this moment can you free yourself from the turbidity of reality, and soak and cleanse your soul in the bright and dustless moonlight; Only now can you get a glimpse of your mundane self, a self that can keep your free soul out of the window. You will also be like Zhang Ruoxu, standing in front of the window and asking yourself: "Who saw it first on a moonlit night like this, with water and sky and a lonely moon hanging high?" When did such a bright and immaculate moonlight enter a free soul? "At this moment, on the other side of the river, are there people thinking about the window, and whether they are looking at the window like themselves...The bright moon in front of the window, whether it can melt into the moonlight, can it shine into the soul of the same moonlight looking out of the window. Only the moonlight outside the window can hear the voice of the same moonlight at this moment, and how many of the longings and thoughts of people from different regions, different circumstances, and different moods in front of the window disappear in the moonlight, how much disappears in time, and how many enter each other in their minds with the help of the moonlight.
Outside the window in the middle of the night, it is deep, dark, and helpless. Even if you don't appear in front of the window, the moonlight is still bright, the leaves are still rustling, and the street lamps are still bright and dark. The only difference is that they don't know that if you're not staring at the window at the moment, not listening at the window, the moonlight, the leaves, the lights are missing a perceiver. But even without the Perceiver, what is there to lose to them?
Outside the window in the middle of the night, there is a world full of free souls, all the souls that have been suppressed, wrapped, distorted, mutilated, and broken in the daytime, wandering freely, happily, and indulgently in the night. Even the moonlight, which is as bright as day, has become the protective color of these free souls, protecting these free souls and restoring their original and brilliant selves in the dark night.
When the spring flowers are blooming, the window is the eye of the reading season, and outside the window is the vitality of the neighbor's old man and wife.
When the spring flowers next to the community road reveal light yellow flowers, the old man will take a shovel that has been rusted all winter, and loosen the soil over and over again outside the window, so meticulous that it can't be more meticulous, as if he is afraid that which lump of soil has not been knocked open to hide the information of winter...The flower branches are still the branches of last year's brilliant moon flowers, which have been thoroughly awakened by the spring breeze, revealing tender green shoots. The old man took the gardener's scissors, meticulously discerning back and forth, repeatedly selecting, cutting off the most vital branches, removing the clutter, and carefully inserting them into the already moistened soil, as if raising his own children. After confirming that everything was not missing, the old man would also use the small twigs he picked up and the nylon rope that was peeled into thin strips to make a simple fence around the cuttings of the moon to prevent the puppies and kittens from destroying them. From this day on, every morning, there will be an old man outside the window, sometimes watering, sometimes cleaning weeds, more often the old man does nothing, or stands by the flower bed and stares quietly, that intoxicated expression, as if seeing his child grow up happily; Or intoxicated thinking about something, with an intoxicating smile on the corner of his mouth from time to time.
In the bright early summer morning, together with the birdsong outside the window, there was the emotional singing of the old lady, and the peonies they carefully planted and the fragrance of the moon season, surging in waves. Most of the songs sung by the old lady are popular revolutionary songs in the fifties and sixties, and most of them are not sung now, but the old lady sings very emotionally, and you can feel that the old lady is completely immersed in the artistic conception of the song. Occasionally, the old lady will sing two popular songs in recent years, most of which praise the mother or father, or the most simple mother-son love in the world or the father's filial piety, the same emotion and intoxication. But the old lady was most intoxicated by the children's song "Let's Swing the Sculls": "Let's swing the sculls, and the boat pushes away the waves." The beautiful white tower is reflected in the sea, surrounded by green trees and red walls..."Listening to the song, you can feel that the old lady is immersed in the beauty of childhood, and you can feel the old lady's attachment to childhood.
Later, some people said that the old man and the old lady came to Zhongnan from Beijing in the 50s, and they spent their childhood in Beihai Park many times, and they didn't know how many times they dreamed that "the boat was gentle, floating in the water, and a cool wind was blowing in their faces..."”
Standing in the window and looking out, everything outside the window is bright. The sun shines obliquely from the southeast of the window, and the rhythm of winter is slow and melodious. At this moment, I can't help but imagine the faint fragrance of flowers in the transparent morning light in spring, the information about a person I haven't seen for many years brought by the season, or the refreshing face and elegant breath of many years ago...
The window is the eye of the soul and the eye of the world. I stood in front of the window and read the landscape, and the landscape was secretly reading me, I sucked the sun, moonlight, life and air outside the window, and the sun, moonlight, life and air outside the window also hugged me through the window.
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About the Author
Bai Xiaolin, currently working in an aerospace research institute, master of business administration, senior engineer, with IPMP level C (senior project manager) qualification certificate issued by the International Project Management Association (IPMA) (No. CN2003C1008). He has been employed as a senior management consultant of a management consulting institution and an external tutor of human resource management in a university. He is an amateur and a freelance creator who is committed to the study of Mongolian and Yuan history, and has published more than 100,000 words of works on online platforms or print media.
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