Hearing the song of the blue door is actually earlier. Familiar and smooth piano music, brisk, naughty, and stubborn, all belong to youth. The first picture at the beginning actually made my eyes wet. I remembered that there was such a time many years ago, three years ago, two years ago. Summer, endless summer. Walking out of the school gate in the crowd, lightly dressed, a little orange sunset in the west, shining from behind, a little damp on the hairline or fine sweat on the tip of the nose. I just thought about it and got wet eyes.
In that blue door, I saw those stubborn and careful children. We do the same things, say the same words, so simple and fiery, so simple and meticulous, so persistent and timid, our youth. Riding a bicycle in the crowd with a smile as if with a glider, the corners of the clothes are floating. All the feelings of youth and the wind and temperature of that time can be seen when you close your eyes. I'm just obsessed with not being such a teenager who rides a bicycle, pretending so carefully in my heart, and the fantasy of happiness and anger begins with him. He should look like Zhang Shihao, cheerful, kind, simple, silly, stubborn, and clean. I always insist that my youth is so abundant, like a green plant, often so tenacious and growing. And it finally lacks the beauty of this touch of flowers. Like someone said, "But I've lost this thing. Most of us haven't dropped. Not only is it not lost, but it is also questionable whether it was there in the first place. 』
When I left my seventeen years old, I also heard such a conversation on the bus, the best high school in the country, they were worried about his physics and his English, he was entangled in his language, and also guessed that the girls were all. What kind of books do you like to read. I stood by and pulled the ring hard, and laughed when I listened to it, it was pure and interesting. For those things, I always get old, say goodbye, and never go back. Looking at the boy in the white shirt outside the car window, he was riding a bicycle quickly, raising his chin, the wind was blowing, and there were rows of green trees next to him, and the sun was mottled. Like a happy heart galloping hula. This picture frame by frame, passing my youth, our youth.
I am also thinking about what kind of him will I meet in three or five years. At that time, what kind of things we were doing, what kind of mood we had and what we looked like. I closed my eyes, heard his voice, saw the way he smiled and said hello. I said I will remember, always clear and bright picture. It is this kind of warmth that resides in and is properly placed.
Meng Kerou said that she closed her eyes and couldn't see herself, but she saw Xiao Shi: You are standing in front of a blue gate, in the sun at three o'clock in the afternoon, you still have a few pimples. You smile, I run to you to ask how are you, and you nod. What kind of adults will we become in three, five years, or even longer? It's a physical education teacher, or my mother. Although I close my eyes and can't see myself, I can see you. I think I know that she has always liked him, so she can deliver her heart so comfortably. The words "I am a girl, I like boys" on the graffiti wall left "Zhang Shihao came here for a visit. I was here". The boy who appeared in youth has entered the heart of this girl.
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