Xujiahui Park.
A strange man and woman, who met on the subway, met unexpectedly in the park. Since then, they will tacitly meet each other to sit in the park for a while, have a cup of coffee, and chat about the things in front of them.
And then what? No then.
This extremely blandish story comes from the Japanese writer Shuichi Yoshida's ** "Life in the Park". *Winner of the Akutagawa Prize in 2002. The story takes place in Hibiya Park in Tokyo.
With a history of more than 100 years, Hibiya Park is Japan's first Western-style modern park, blending in with the bustling city of Tokyo. But the men and women who meet and continue to date do not have a love story, and there are no other adventures.
I unexpectedly liked this boiled water story and watched it many times. As a park lover, I sincerely hope that the park is not a backdrop for some nonsense story. A park should be a park.
It just so happens that there are some pretty good parks in Shanghai. When I first arrived in Shanghai, I rented a house in an old community near Ganghui Hang Lung. The monthly rent is nearly 4,000 yuan, a small one-bedroom apartment, and only the bedroom has a window. Every day after work, my eyes are black when I enter the door - in hindsight, it is like life - but after walking out of the community, it is Xujiahui Park.
The first time I walked into Xujiahui Park, I was shocked by a little **. The beauty of the bustling city, the arbor stretches, the covered bridge to the sky, and a group of cool and agile black swans. So I frequented and spent my time here, secretly keeping an eye on the number of turtles basking in the sun, and whether the swan eggs on the lawn had been stolen, and fucking the short-hearted hearts of some parents.
Near the second north gate, there is a quiet three-story small red building. When I first passed by, I vaguely felt that there was something in this building. Later, when I saw the light and shadow of the word "Baidai" cast on the ground, I knew that it was the place where the "March of the Volunteers" was filled. More than 100 years ago, it was one of the offices of the French company EMI in China, and in 1952 it became the Shanghai Record Factory of China Record Corporation.
But I haven't walked inside the building for a long time. Occasionally, if you want to go in, you will be extremely depressed if you make up for the appearance of being stopped out of the smoke and dust of history. They were sealed there on my own initiative, and they passed by again and again. It's my park lifestyle.
Most of the time, I just lie in the park looking at the trees, or reading a book. One day, a strange old man came up to me and asked me what I was reading. As he spoke, he tore the book over and flipped through it casually, revealing an illustration of a nude woman holding a vase.
The old man's fingers rubbed against the naked woman, staring at me. I wanted to have a seizure, but I was also worried that he would lie down on the spot and touch the porcelain, so I chose to run away. Halfway through the escape, he remembered the very interesting literary gossip "Writing Error" that fell into his hand, and became more and more annoyed, and he stopped going to Xujiahui Park for a long time.
Fortunately, there are many parks in Shanghai. Meet her boyfriend at the time to take a walk in Century Park, the route is long enough for a couple in love to experience a complete round of greed and hatred. In the evening, the street lights are lit up one after another, and the sound of people and cars merge into a river, which is a moment of love for the person holding hands at this moment.
On the route of my high-frequency activities, there is Xiangyang Park in the downtown area. At the entrance, there have been aunts and uncles dancing for a long time, and the dancing posture is quite lingering, but the accompaniment is so loud that it is quite uncomfortable.
But passing through them, there is a lot of silence in the middle of nowhere, and it's very dramatic. Only once, in the depths of the park, a group of grandfathers and uncles got together, and their positions were clearly divided into two lineups, and they were more correct in the battle between the United States and Russia. I pulled my neck and argued for half an hour, but no one was convinced, and the air was full of happy "Book Na Niang".
Huashan Road at the other end is relatively quiet, and once I unintentionally turned onto the inconspicuous path on the side of the road, and actually broke into the grassy park. There was even a pond with frogs in such a small green area. The moonlight casts shadows and is scattered by the noisy children. I love the sight of the park, where the tranquility and beauty of the park are "spoiled" by unknown people, and that is the nobility of the park.
Later, when I moved, there was a big park near the community, which seemed to be compensation for my escape from Xujiahui Park. The trees are also tall and dense, and even the landscape in the park has its own style. Take pictures to show friends, she says like Tokyo, New York and London. Actually, this is Shanghai.
Because of the proximity, I wandered around the park from time to time, and I repeatedly walked into Shuichi Yoshida's "Life in the Park". He came to the metropolis of Tokyo at the age of eighteen and felt that he "belonged neither to Tokyo nor to his hometown." In the park, this feeling is better understood.
Parks are a metaphor for being beautiful, noisy, creating little surprises and small troubles, and opening up to invite people to visit again and again. But the park isn't anyone's promised land, so don't be too disappointed if there's no story to tell. Life is like that all the time.
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