Leave, leave the suffocating office, leave, leave the reinforced concrete jungle, To leave, to leave the long, crowded streets, to stretch my body, to open my eyes, to breathe freely, to bring my mood back to years ago.
Your desire is my desire, your confusion is my confusion, you are me, and I am you.
I am as uncertain as you are, and like you, I give myself ten days to redeem the three hundred and sixty-five years of this year.
Did you know that the people who set foot on the Shinkansen with you are you, Yuko, who is in fifth grade, and me.
And I, like you, look in the mirror and don't know how old or young I am.
The blurry scenery outside the car window and the flickering light inside the car window recalled those fragments, those words, those imaginations, those lovely and innocent smiling faces that grew up.
Oh, rainy days, cloudy days and sunny days, which kind of weather does Yuko like?
Mmmm, cloudy, cloudy.
Ha, me too!
To be honest, I don't remember much of my fifth grade. I can't get cold on your conversation with that baseball boy in the alley at dusk.
But I really like it, I like those two little red faces, I like that boy cheering and throwing baseballs away,
but I really envy, envy the alley where the spring flowers bloom in that moment, envy the one who can be in all of a sudden A sweet girl swimming in the clouds. I envy that even though the years have passed, you still snicker in retrospect while hiding under the covers. That poetic and dream-like feeling is really worth the money.
Watching you go out for morning exercises alone in the summer vacation, watching you faint happily in the Roman baths, I can't help laughing.
It seems that at this point, I am more fortunate than you, because my grandparents live in the country, because every summer in elementary school I spend there with my sister.
It was a small village. There are overwhelming willow trees and green rice fields that cover the ground. There is the chirping of sparrows and the murmur of swallows.
There are ponds overgrown with water plants and yellow water chestnut flowers, and red tomatoes and cucumbers with thorns dipped in well water.
There are the warm red-skinned eggs in the fine scoop and the fragrant corn in the stove, the grandmother's voice calling and the curling smoke rising from the chimney. Compared to your destination, it's not bad at all.
Of course, your heaven is not bad either.
The mountains, the forests, the crystal clear rivers, the red flowers that bloom one after another, the morning light that penetrates the clouds,
the butterflies that flutter freely, the dragonflies in the air, and the farming activities of cultivating and making red flowers , is really fascinating.
For farmers, it is self-awareness of bitterness and joy, but for me, I have a few obsessions. In the boundless countryside, when I bury my body to work, I can feel the endless power in my body. The moment the hot sweat runs across my temples, I will feel some pleasure, the pleasure of labor, the pleasure of conquering nature and conquering myself.
Occasionally, he will straighten his waist, raise his head, and look at the stagnant floating clouds in the blue sky. There will be some unknown insect singing in the ears, intermittent, far and near. At that time, there was no wind in the air, only the burnt smell of sunlight and the fragrance of plants.
Look at me, talking and talking, I am immersed in the details of my own nerves. Forget Xizi, you are happier than me. Because there's a handsome guy in a jeep listening to Hungarian music in that place you see as paradise. He may be the boy who plays baseball, he may be the neighbor who refuses to shake your hand and say goodbye, he may be the senior who asked you to play drama, maybe. Maybe he is part of this paradise.
Seeing this, I asked myself, and also asked you Xizi. Will those little moments of childhood really pass through time and space quietly and knock on my door?
indeed. It's a fairy tale. It is a fairy tale of the years, they disappeared with the innocent and romantic childhood, with the wild flowers on the street and the sound of frogs like drums. Just like you and me, no matter how you recall, you can't go back to the past.
But, tonight I really went back. Follow Xizi you can't wait to jump off the coach, follow Xizi you desperately breathe and work, follow Xizi you get back to the fifth grade vacation, get back the emerald green sweater and the gouache bow, get back the swing under the big willow tree and lie down. A companion who counts stars on a haystack.
When the simple and simple country songs rang in my ears, when the subtitles were like the clouds passing by in the middle of the night, I found myself sinking deep into the sofa, squinting my eyes and taking a long sigh.
Looking out the window at the apricot-yellow moon that was broken into pieces by the fence, I seemed to have returned to that midsummer night a few years ago. The laughter of my childhood friend rang in my ears, and the grouting green Qi Mai was calling to me!
I
wandered
am I still the little girl who didn't talk to the boys?
Am I still the stubborn teenager who has eaten the green pineapple?
Am I really following my dreams ? The butterfly that tumbled away in the midst of the butterfly flapped its wings
diligently , and
suddenly grew into an adult in the middle of the night
. That little boy who stood across the bridge and glared at me
was really unwilling to shake hands with me because he
liked Just do it
if you like it, he said I'm still talking to
myself .
Anyway, let me run under that tree first. Let's
talk about it
four years ago, and keep it here for backup :)
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Another Ghibli work, directed by Isao Takahata piece. Released in 1991.
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