An attraction of a lifetime
On this small island caressed by the sea breeze, I found the shadow of childhood, which has no value and does not need to disappear. In Cuba, encounters are short-lived, like the love of parents.
One morning, I arrived in Cuba with my drunken friend Piggy to greet Havana in the afternoon, two people lost in the hustle and bustle of Miami, facing a completely unfamiliar world.
This place is so shabby, I was tricked by you. Piggy complains while looking for a signal that in addition to being a student, he is also running a side hustle. Growing up in Shanghai, we have been working and learning Xi in the fast-paced city and have never thought about the "internal drive of life".
It's so unique here," I thought about writing something, dragging Jiro's legs leisurely, "and the atmosphere here is like when I was a child." ”
Sorry, my family was rich when I was a kid and there was no such place. He said angrily. Unlike his brocade clothes and food, my army compound looks absurd and interesting because it traces history.
The creeper corner growing at the south gate is home to crickets, and I invite fireflies to be guests at nightMy grandfather planted a cypress tree that befriended me in the summer and sat in the crook of her arm on a rockIn the rainforest of the library, there is a hundred-year-old turtle that doesn't like to take care of me.
From Shanghai to New York, I always fled to the memories of my childhood, dissolving the bones of city life. And these memories are reproduced in Havana. We lived in an unfinished building between the old colonial house and the sea, where people often played chess, and in the evening, I watched the sunset by the sea with Piggy, and at night we walked into an ice cream shop together.
Scenes that are too dream-like are often accompanied by the regret of waking up from a dream. This time, I missed all the old people. Last summer's neighbors and old men chatting together were like the love of their parents: the meeting was a one-time thing. Memories should stay there.
Maybe a person lives a lifetime, just a few summers, a few spring breezes. When the autumn breeze is bleak, most people live by their memories. Write, close the diary and stop reading it, and when autumn and winter come, the memories and words are alive.
Cuba Memories Seaside Stories Childhood Time The Inner Drive of Life