Her beauty may be a joke after a flash in the pan, but her fragrance lingers on a more ancient oblivion.
Time turned into scattered fragments, dispersed in the air with the sea breeze. Memories make history, constantly update, and then die.
Live every day with the desire to live only this day, yesterday and tomorrow are just as illusory and vague. Do nothing, don't care about anything, and enjoy the simple sweetness, abundance, and fulfillment of life.
Sunrise and sunset, flowers bloom and fade, I thought that should be the whole of the closed island. And the people there are the same as us in the center of the deep city and densely populated. There is fear, hesitation, stagnation, and despair in the face of time that stretches endlessly and infinitely.
I don't know if it's fortunate or unfortunate, I don't know if it's right or wrong, I don't know whether to face it or escape. They chose bindweed, they chose forgetting, and they also chose a more short-lived stage of life. Perhaps no one has dared to comment on whether their life is worthwhile since then.
In Tagore's "Liu Ying Ji", there is such a description about butterflies: Butterflies live, not counting years and months, but only moments. Time is extremely abundant for it. I think that the artistic conception described in "The Dew-sucking Group" is similar in purpose, and it is also about the choice of time. Whether it is a butterfly or a flower, in the end, both choose the moment and abandon the eternity. Because true beauty is far from being measured in seconds. A flower that can only open for one day and a flower that blooms from time to time for thousands of years have the same stunning beauty, and a dull day that forgets to switch may be far better than a day that always strives to protect the fragile happiness. Maybe a narrow stage can enclose more than we have a huge space.
Therefore, for the girl Akoya, the normal time of human life is a lonely and terrifying existence, and the time of insects, even if it is an instant, repeats the joy of life and the tranquility of death every day, and the law is not for the world. of impermanence. Who said this is not the greatest happiness in the world?
If I really had a choice, I think I would choose countless times to be the butterfly in Tagore's pen and the Akoya in the Ushihara-ki story. Because in this seemingly boundless but limited world, I am constantly tormented by the fear of impermanence. Pain will prolong time and slowly erode everything, including ideals, until one day it devours itself.
That feeling, like stretching out your hands, staggering and groping in the dark. For the collision of foreign objects, the injury is ignored, just numb and blindly wandering, I don't know when the end is, and I move forward blindly. Then I was tired, tired, and didn't want to go. Quietly stopped in place, listened to the sound of the people behind, and then the hair was ruffled by the wind brought by the rapid passing of the overtakers, and then waited like this, maybe silence, maybe death. Practice life with your own hands, and even defeat maggots.
But our world will never be. If, according to Yingu's thoughts, there is an infinitely extending eternal time unfolding in front of each of us. What should we rely on to live? Just an ordinary life is enough. And this ordinary taste is not colorless and tasteless, it is like a mountain spring when it is sweet, and it is like a snake gall when it is bitter, intertwined and hovering in our lives. And we, really feel the reality of this world, and live the same real life every day.
Only in dreams can we have a moment of beauty.
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