Traditional Culture Encyclopedia - Photography major - Who is Lian An written by Annie Baby?

Who is Lian An written by Annie Baby?

Lian an 15 years old that year.

Love is patience, love is kindness. Love never stops.

Yin and others at the exit of the railway station are men 17 years older than her. It was chilly in spring, and Lian An struggled to push through the crowd with his big box and saw a strange and huge northern city. The man is wearing a white shirt, brown suede lace-up shoes, short crew cut, and exudes a clean and tough temperament. He is different from anyone Allianz has ever seen.

Men who have experienced the ups and downs of Pro's life, including her stepfather and the owner of the picture frame shop, are essentially men who are not suitable for Pro. Lin has been dating men who are lower than her, and I don't know whether it is fate or drift.

His hand touched Lian's head and said, Lian, come with me. He drives a black Honda. Allianz smelled tobacco in his car. He coughed gently and pulled out a towel to wipe her thick hair wet by the rain. He said, I am a friend of your mother, and we have known each other since she studied painting in Beijing. It's just that I switched to being a trader later, unlike her talent and being an artist. This skinny girl, carrying her suitcase hard, looked him straight in the eye with clear eyes. This is a completely adult way. He sighed lightly and didn't tell her that Lin was dead.

There was pity in his eyes, but Lian An already felt it. The air conditioner in the car is very comfortable and she is very tired. She tilted her head and fell asleep in her seat. She suddenly felt free.

After his death, Lian An felt free. Her life is as bright as a flower, full of stubborn strength. She eats a lot of food and takes her to a restaurant every morning. She didn't speak, just wolfed down her food. She is very hungry. The way she eats food is full of desire. She is also very silent. But she understood everything he said to her.

He sent her to boarding school. The school is far from the city. He drives to school to pick her up once a week. There is a small room belonging to her on the third floor of the apartment. He pasted the white rose wallpaper again. Beds, curtains and lampshades are all white embroidered cotton and linen with fine lace. Every detail is elegant and comprehensive, but not spoiled. Chen Yi's scenes are rich, and she has enough intention to be kind to this defected girl.

She can see the locust tree in the garden from the window. When I wake up in the morning, the shadow of the sun overlapping on the wall is deep and shallow. She cherishes this sudden happiness and studies hard. His fiancee comes to live occasionally. She is the daughter of a government official. It was a gentle woman, and the relationship between them was not warm, polite and orderly. More like a partnership. He is a man who is used to controlling everything.

She remembers that when he gave her a lecture, he always spoke in an imperative tone: put his legs down, put his shoulders flat, hold a bowl when eating, and don't make any noise when eating western knives and forks. He can only wear a white cotton shirt and a blue skirt. He can't wear shoes barefoot. When he sits down, his legs are together ... No one has ever paid so much attention to her. She gradually realized that before a person's kindness, she could ask him first: the teacher said she wanted to buy an English course. I want to hire a math tutor to help me. If you want to eat bamboo shoots, let him take them to school and cook them with ham. They are salty and fresh. Buy a pair of red sandals. Want to see a movie? ...

For the first time, she felt that she could communicate with another person.

In July, he took her to Puwan, a fishing port for her birthday. It's only an hour's journey by car. This is their only trip. In the window of the car glass, she saw the road through the village and fields and headed for the sea. Her unruly personality was gradually liberated. She poked her head out of the window and closed her eyes to feel the wind speed. I am also happy in my heart.

The sea remained in her memory. It is a gap in the earth, symbolizing division. It is not the imagined dark blue, but the turbid gray purple and dark blue appear alternately. Outside the wall of the small hotel, there are tall and stout gardenias, which are white, big in bowls and intoxicating in fragrance. In the middle of the night, in the stormy sea, the tidal sound on the sea surface falls with the subtle vibration of raindrops and sweeps from a distance, like the sound of blood. The rain dripped from the eaves and wet her eyes.

I smoked all morning. This man only smokes 555. When he was by her side, the pungent and suffocating smell of cigarettes filled every inch of the air. He often just looked at her tenderly, without words. He smokes as if he were in love with the sea in front of him. He picked a gardenia, put it next to her long black hair, let her stand by the stone gallery next to the hotel and took a picture of her. This is the first photo of Allianz. Black and white, hand-washed. She is so thin, thin body, alert eyes, but very beautiful. She saw her face exactly like Pro's.

He taught her how to be silent and slow in front of beautiful things so as to remember. If the heart is sentimental, this memory will become longer and longer because of its weight.

Have some kind of hallucination, like a nail hitting the bone marrow. Be crucified on the cross of desire, so that you can see your sin and beauty clearly. Allianz, 15 years old, is different from any child around her. She kept silent and slowly remembered.

On that occasion, she skipped class to attend the signing ceremony of a British female photographer she liked very much. I went to the big bookstore downtown by bike alone and didn't come back all afternoon. The teacher told him that he had come to school. She wrote him a guarantee.

Wretched on the white paper is obscene handwriting: I was wrong, and I promise I will never skip class again. If you do it again, you can't go home. He stood by and watched her write, then put the blank paper in his pocket.

She has been able to release her long-taboo personality. Being unconventional, very stubborn and sometimes deliberately resisting him. Irritate him, and he will pay more attention to her. Because of the lack of feelings since childhood, she is extremely sensitive to feelings. She knows that anger needs deeper feelings. She was satisfied in a vicious way. Then it became a game between them.

She tried to control him with the illusion of being controlled by him. In this control, she felt her feelings. I heard him coughing gently in the corridor. He has laryngitis because he smokes too much. She felt that her skin would tighten, as if being hugged. So she knew she was in love. Although this is only her own business.

He took her to the movies. She gradually fell asleep, leaned her head on his arm and took a deep breath. The cotton shirt in the dark exudes a faint perfume smell and blends with the skin. He held her face in his palm, slowly put her down and let her sleep in his palm. His hands are big and warm, his joints are slightly prominent, and there are obvious lines and moles on his skin. There is a strong smell of tobacco in the skin. In her dream, she saw a tobacco field flourishing in the sun and gently undulating in the wind.

It was then that she fell in love with men's hands, cigarettes and coughing. Her mother was poor, untidy, obese and depressed until she committed suicide in prison. She fell in love with a clean and noble man, because he symbolizes a rich life, brings endless sense of security, and has a rational and temperate warmth. Materially and spiritually, he is her powerful idol.

This man is by her side, but she can't have him. She is his benefactor. He is neither her father nor her lover. He is her illusion.

A good life, if we love because of pity, loneliness, greed or lack, can such love be saved?