Click to listen to the Chongqing dialect.
Sixty-two years ago, a small incident happened.
Plato is dead.
He just lay on the concrete floor where the heat of the day remained, and he was wearing the red jacket I handed over five minutes ago.
It's ridiculous. My parents fled into this small town with the fantasy of re-starting their son, but they didn't expect him to run into more trouble.
The story started when I was dragged into the police station on the street when I was drunk last night, and ended at the end of another dark night 24 hours later. Outside the interrogation room, I met Plato for the first time. He sat on the bench without saying a word and refused the coat I handed over. There is also a red-dressed girl named Judy, who is pretty, with a bit fierce eyes, crying to the police about her father's bad behavior.
After midnight, the three troublesome high school students met.
On the way to the new school the next day, I ran into Judy again, but she pretended not to know me and jumped into a roadster on the side of the road. The sports car was full of noisy gangsters, and a boy named Frank hugged Judy and kissed her.
When I was watching popular science films in the planetarium, I ran into Plato. He was much friendlier than last night. We started talking and we tried to make a few weird calls. This kind of uprising was seen by Frank and his gang as a blatant provocation.
We agreed to face off on the cliff at nine o'clock in the evening, and I asked my father, but my girly dad hesitated. Fuck off, everyone fucking went, including Judy, she was finally willing to look at me.
He, he, he, and her, in fact, are just like me. We were born in the middle class, and we will die of the middle class. What we eat is high in fat, what we pull is hormones, we hate all the faults of society, and indulge all our own faults.
Judy asked me, "Why do you want to do this?"
I said, " I have to find something to do, right?" The
rules are simple. First steal two cars. Frank and I drive to the edge of the cliff at full speed and choose the right time. Jumping, whoever jumps first is a damn coward! When I jumped out of the car, I heard a violent brake next to me, followed by a scream. Frank's clothes were scratched by the car door, and he didn't jump out.
Everyone broke up in a rush. I was very scared when I got home, and even thought of calling the police, but the people in the police station didn't have the time to talk to me. The people on Frank's side panicked when they heard that I was going to poke the whole thing out, and they took a gun and frantically inquired about my whereabouts.
Plato took me to hide in the abandoned villa next to the planetarium, and on the way drove up Judy, who was scolded out of the house by the bastard father. We talked about ourselves in the villa for the first time. Plato said that his parents would only send checks to the house, and no one could protect him, so he always had a gun with him. I said that my father would just walk around the pots and pans at home, and I fucking had two mothers. Judy said that her father would only beat and scold her, and would not even give a kiss.
I said to Judy: "I don't know why, I always feel cold."
Judy smiled: "It's not surprising that a boy always wants to turn himself into a man as soon as possible."
Suddenly, there were a few shots not far away, and Plato seemed Suddenly, he was overwhelmed, and he took out his gun and rushed to the gangster in the dark, and then there were more gunshots. A few minutes later, the horn of the police car joined the hustle and bustle, which seemed to stimulate Plato, and he fled into the planetarium in a panic.
I realized that only Judy and I could solve the trouble, so I sneaked in. We persuaded Plato to go out, saying that we would protect him. I unloaded all his bullets, handed him the gun and my red jacket, this time he did not refuse. He just mumbled that the searchlight was too dazzling and made him nervous.
I asked the police to turn off that damn headlight. But when we approached the police car, it suddenly brightened again. I don't know if anyone made a mistake, but this made Plato finally lose control and rushed towards the crowd with an empty gun.
This time they shot. No one asked where the bullet came from, why did Plato die?
When you are a child, 24 hours is like your whole life, until you take out the bullet.
After this little incident happened, I decided to leave the town and go alone. I still wore the jeans and bright red jacket, but changed my original name from James Dean to Bob Dylan.
Over the past sixty years, I have written many songs and experienced many trivial things, such as the New Left, progressivism, Kennedy’s assassination, black equal rights, women’s liberation, sexual revolution, the moon landing plan, psychedelics, the Vietnam War, and the Great Depression, the end of the Cold War, 9/11... But in my heart, I couldn't keep up with that, as if it all originated from Plato's death that night.
No one can give the answer.
Yes, I can turn around at any time, but I can't go back all the time. I can accept this chaotic world, but I don't know if it also accepts me.
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