When I prone on the window sill look at campus draw a lawn and clean neat cement milling, those who wear school uniform carrying a big bag with pure color hair of children - the same is really the same children - on the big step across the reminds me of when I was a little boy, I loved to sit on the fence. I sit on the wall in the afternoon one afternoon to see the autumn wind ran slopes, leaves yellow overnight. Was too lazy to practise the piano to the hillside and children playing house, pick up the fruit to eat, finally caught back scolded. And all the tulip bulb dismembered in my uncles garden, the juice daub on the clothes. Moment I actually forgot I have already no longer young, campus noisy the younger sister of loudspeaker acid in yum lyric composition, the blackboard there is a big job... My dear unruly life, small K you remember, we are stand against the wall in the afternoon "scissors stone cloth", you suddenly say "I want to fly!" Then I saw the teachers office out of the window over a group of doves, fly silently silent. White feather pure as you hung and sweat mud seal face, clean years later, in retrospect, I still feel clear as yesterday.

North wood text has concise calm, do not need to be afraid of the university entrance exam composition but I? I have already no longer care about all the mood. I am a painter and frustrated, repeatedly portrayed in the same narrow view.

When he was seven years old were forced to sit in a stick to the piano stool, drawing board;

Grade three love literature for many classics although many or comic books;

Senior year crazy like comics and cartoons;

Care about politics and determined to do a mayor of fifth grade;

Sixth grade has a firm belief of feminism and family honor, keen on archaeological books;

At the beginning of a read a few book easy philosophy at that time the addiction;

2 when like numerology of the psychology as well as about the meaning, astrology, tarot CARDS;

High school what interest keen to first love, don t come home at night, quiet and sad;

High in the form of transformation into self, perverse, and associated with mild depression;

Now I care about the weather, the mood, things, and grades. The only big volume will do is to turn the volume of sketch, gouache, sketch, see if on the date of the sign face to face is complete. And then find out the staff page flipping, from eritrea to czerny 599 to 749 to 749 to 299 to 740, the last is the year before last summer liszt Hungarian rhapsody 5 of torture me to death. Stiff hand lift piano cover, was in black and white on the keyboard, to shake up, cant play like murakami wrote down. Holding the acoustic guitar clumsily dial the same chord, a drop of tears down the impact on the steel string I hear thunder exploding heavy charges. Sadness from the bottom of my heart overflow, wet my face, I depressed down, no longer speak.

This is growing up, like a page by page books.

I look at myself, love such as cutting. The dominant child where go to, dont have to grow up so fast. I looked at his sixteen began to aging mind, himself, very indignation. I want to seize time by the collar killed him with one punch. I feel like I was in rush forward pursued happiness money houses the car beauty ideal of mainstream crowd, caught in the middle hit by a staggering pushes in crowded forward, they are in high spirit cheerfully in the cross flow of material to catch-up. I dont. I have forgotten a backpack behind, the containing my toys and things. I want to go back with... Do I have to go back. I will flow away. This is one of my ideal, countless times I dream of a walk against the crowd, his face engraved refuse and compromise of firmness and hesitation. Have been walking, his ideal is either find the starting point of the world, or destroyed at the end of the universe.

Kafka, said really road is used for people to walk more, than for a trip.

I lost in the desolate wind to find the direction of the stars, fatigue irritability is stop. At the beginning of the creation of the universe from the myths and ｓｃｒｉｐｔures. Im standing in the middle of the island eagerly looking, but the sky above the black hurricane resting. But I still believe, I like the Lord mercifully believe that we, as a thinking creature is the masterpiece of god, the black earth and heaven with beautiful snow and peaceful village. We will scar as a glorious history, and then be remembered and gently rub. We are only after a life of dreams, cloudy like in a blind alley, but woke up and began to pour out her tears in the sun this cracked land, everything will start all over again. Like the cannes movie dialogue: "yes, fantasy, we lack of imagination."

I always to resist the view from wad for eyes, cycle of day and night. And like a song by cover cover to cover. Wake up, sleep, now.

I like crazy all day to read the mantra "I collapsed" evil smile, touched the head of the north wood said far far to Ill give you a medallion ". Through the lens can see north wood limpid eyes, looking like a lovely boy. I look at feel warm. We live a simple life, simply dont have to worry about unemployment or devaluation, bankruptcy, and financial crisis. The bubble economy of modern industry makes me feel really too rich is not good, you see more than the Japanese economy is weak. We Chinese people carrying red flags on the avenue mighty spirit that westerners.

Children with ordinary death like us. But along the way by the dream, faith, struggle, sadness and go on forever drums, dance of youth, even if will eventually burst into ashes float in the sky after a heavy fall, but, after all, a magnificent and solemn and stirring. Ive seen it in a magazine: "in the peacetime crowing, youth in Laos to generation after generation, and to grow in the generation after generation. Looking back, more than splendor and love, more than learning and fashion, more than blood and revolution, more than struggle and the ideal, not heroes and dedication." Jie suo lu told us "than Malone effect" will power is indispensable to life. Hemingway to borrow in the last century, Gertrude, with the words "you are the lost generation" as a virgin novel begins, we will give you a hard time dubbed a warm like a flower name "young people". So we cry out young is a time when all his mama, no one will blame us too cynical smile. The meaning of the youth is even sad tears, is still a requiem mixed with rock flavor.

I write here to find out of the window with a
ight qiuyang, if can is a house. I think of deep in the memory of light, and through the dark void. I like not obedient child, has yet to start theater curtain, devout and naughty to peep at the feeling of life. Those who hide behind various faces on the ruins of the hymn to spawn their heroic love and deception. In the description of this testing, I to free the malicious tore up the life of the look, I caused by out of context the unforgivable mistake. But do not sin. Because for refrigerated revolt has always been intact and routine work for the people of life, their life has not been torn had already died.

Chekhov said, if you have already lived that life is just a draft, have again copying it would be great. But I want to. I scribbled youth and may also be untidy, life is beautiful, not a materialistic hunting stunner.

North wood notebook have so a words:

Originally some things really is casual complete, some people really are doomed to imagine. ...... No matter how god give me the body, I staged seventeen years of vicissitudes, some people some thing is so glimmering in the scenery along the way. I learned to secure learned lies learned to calm to the silence learned perseverance. Joy in and out in the given
eak into a glass, Im standing in the wind in the darkest corners of swept them into the bottom of my heart. No relationship. White teeth smile at others and as much soul filling the shadow along. There are only strong everywhere.

So if you have unfortunately you want to take, comfort sometimes short, not strong also want to strong.

Comment: outrageous lyrical prose most belong to a paranoid slightly melancholy young talent. This man is he. Writing is a dose of the remedy. However, writing is not only to vent talented, or self-pity and bo sympathy; There needs to be beyond the emotional and superb skills shows that writing - is also a writer of nobility. Self-respect and restraint is a must. When writing becomes a need, also is one kind of aware skills, it looks like a flower opening in the dust of the flowers, have a kind of common pride and
ight. We will automatically become pious and confidence. Between words could actually is full of so many wonderful, this is we can from QiJin years of experience in the work.

Different from general young writers. QiJin years has built up a strong power to control their own writing. This does not mean his pen technology, but to his maturity; He has quite a ability of thoughts and feelings to look at themselves, including to examine their writing and to express Fang Wu (or generation). His writing in the surging show thinking qualification. In shallow promiscuous, moaning and hoity-toity advanced difficult fashion - its a pity that they have been popular among youth writing - and apparently more richly textured QiJin years of writing. He has a more close to the pure literary temperament.

Havent undress to eat without friends, sorry we dont have the qualification, we can also write the happiness has a long history.