Time is slow.

(This is a set of mobile phone photography)

Time is slow.

Time dimension always seems to be fixed. He is calm, nothing can stop him and no one can try to forget his existence. He is like a sharp knife to cut leeks, and he gains not only history but also the truth.

Time-with color, slowly stealth, when you want to perceive him, he is not there, when you don't want to perceive him, he flies by.

This alley, which I walked many times when I was a child, is next to the school and has long since disappeared. And it's still there after all these years, just the same. It has seen so many people, and I don't know how many years of stories it has recited. Perhaps it has experienced joys and sorrows, but it has no choice. The years have changed and the surrounding environment has changed, but it has not shaken it.

As a little girl, she used to wander on this road repeatedly.

I bought salty biscuits, red, yellow and sticky candy, and sang "Once in a Thousand Years" with my classmates ... Nearly 30 years later, it's still like this, except that some shops are dead, but the road is still there, and the time is still there, just like turning into a corner, you can see what she looked like when she was a child.

She smiled, her eyes, her schoolbag and her messy hair. ...

I really want to meet her, tell her a lot, tell her stories about the future, and hope that she will get better and better. ...

Is that a shadow on the ground or a deposited spot?

Under the tree, she found the first real dead animal in her life-a swallow. I still remember the little girl who stood by the swallow's body for a long time until the sun went down and the street lamp lit up.

She finally squatted down and once again confirmed that the swallow would never struggle to stand up and never escape far. Ants climbed up the swallow's body in droves. She tried to stop them, but they kept coming. She wanted to dig a hole to bury the swallow deeply, picked up the branches on the side, but found that she couldn't dig the concrete floor. She kept picking up leaves and trying to bury them, so there were more ants. ...

In the face of death, the original tears will not break ...

Time has neither made trees taller nor made way wider. Just like decades ago, people come and go, but there are no more dung carts, long cigarettes and littering, followed by a group of children. A piece of paper brings great happiness to children. They rejoice, they jump for joy, they pester each other, and they have countless ideas. They began to toss these paper tapes and came up with 108 kinds, which were folded, folded, rolled, torn, braided, cut, squeezed and scattered into pieces. ...

The wind, moving slowly, is the sound of being dragged forward by years.

I wonder how many years this railway has existed. In the age of cycling, they often throw people and cars on the ground in a mischievous way, and people and cars are often worried about it.

Later, she squatted by and thought for a long time, whether the railway was too lonely, whether it was actually tired of rolling wheels and people coming and going, whether it wanted to know what the temperature was right, what the skin was like, what people's subtle expressions were, and what they would say when they stopped ... Maybe it was too curious and lonely, so it was naughty, so it was wanton ... She always thought it was too naughty, and one day it would. Perhaps, time has smoothed its temper and brought it not only a face that can be distinguished by light, but also intelligent eyes.

Why is time so slow? Because this sign stands here and stops here. It looks at its partner and is very satisfied with its role. In front of it, they are all there, and behind it, they have gradually disappeared. They grew old and died one by one.

The modern curve has been with them for days, months, years, decades ... time has made them feel used to being fresh, then familiar with it, and perhaps reluctant to part.

The journey of time is over, and the road is as slow as it was decades ago.