Every time I wander around the city streets, looking at the glittering neon lights, looking at the people in a hurry, I always feel that the prosperity of the city does not belong to me or to them.
Because, these people who passed me in a hurry didn't have a few** these colorful lights. They have to be busy with life, and they don't have that leisure. Like them, I go out at night, not to go shopping, but to prepare food for tonight and tomorrow.
Although it is 9 to 6, it is not easy to go out at 7 o'clock in the morning, transfer to the subway, squeeze the bus, and go to work on time at 9 o'clock. At six o'clock in the evening, I repeated the morning routine backwards, and it was not easy to get home at eight o'clock. I had to buy food before I got home. Tonight's, tomorrow morning's.
The prosperity of the city belongs only to those who are rich. Because they don't have to worry about making a living. If you have money and leisure, you can enjoy the lights under the neon lights.
The traffic on the street reminds me of the small roads of my hometown. I miss the winding, rugged and quiet mountain road more and more.
This path leads from the outside of the village to the front of the houses in the villages.
It seems that only this path belongs to you. It's not just because I grew up on this path, but because it carries so much joy from my childhood. Mountain flowers, wild fruits, birds, colorful butterflies, friends can play there. Except for the sound of birds, there is never a car chirping, except for the fragrance of flowers, no smell of gasoline, except for flowers and grass green, there are no dazzling lights. In addition to tranquility, it is still tranquility. Of course, when the mountain wind blows, the bushes will make a subtle noise, which is a natural sound, and the noise of the city street is simply incomparable. And, of course, there are the birdsong, which is the song of nature that you can't hear on the street.
I remember when I was a child, I used to sit on the rocks at the door of the house, looking at the winding path, and fantasizing about what it looked like in the distance. Of course, all that can be seen is the fields and mountains. But at that time, I always felt that this mountain, this land, all the grass, trees and flowers, including the white clouds in the sky, the birds in the forest, the moths and beetles, were all my own. Because I am part of them, I am part of them.
Now, living in the city, there are many high-rise buildings, all kinds of objects, none of them, even if it is just a small object, belongs to me. Even the air, it took my turn to breathe, not to mention anything else.
I miss the path of my hometown, which is my home. In the city, I have always been just a sojourn, just a temporary stop in the journey of life.
The end of life is still the path back to my hometown.