What is an interesting soul like?

I remember that I lived alone in Paris and wrote a short article about loneliness when I was free.

Browsing in twos and threes, sparse news. Suddenly I saw this:

Stepping on a footprint on the beach is loneliness. Step on it twice and you'll have company. Step out of two rows and you will become a group. Oh, I accidentally stepped on one. It was just loneliness. ' '

It was her who left the message, and her head was a lonely bird flying under the gray sky.

I seem to see the light gray sea, a seagull gliding alone, staring coldly at the footprints on the beach that are detached, shapeless and slowly dying alone.

The first date was in a cafe on the corner. I was drinking coffee leisurely, watching an ordinary-looking girl coming across the street, sitting opposite me naturally and calmly.

I'm a little surprised. "How did you know it was me?"

She raised her face from side to side. "Guess?"

I look around. Indeed, I am the only Asian boy with black hair in a crowded coffee shop, which is very abrupt.

"Well," I continued to look at her thoughtfully, "maybe I'm not the person you want to see? Maybe the person you met didn't come, and I just happened to enjoy the sunshine here? "

"Never mind, since you happen to be here at this time, whether you have an appointment or not, you are the one I chose." She smiled unnecessarily, calmly, confidently and freely.

So I, the "chosen" person, had this doomed start with her.

2.

Her name is Gan Tang.

I remember a Gan Tang in The Book of Songs.

Cover Gan Tang, don't open, don't cut, call it ".

Guy Gan Tang, don't lose. Tell Bob to rest.

Gaigan Tang, don't worship, Zhao Bo said:

When asked, she shook her head and said that she preferred Han Lian's sentence: "Gan Tang left her love to Tongxiang."

You will never understand how many books she has read, how many places she has been and how many stories she has had.

Every time I chat with her, she neither affirms nor denies it, but just listens quietly. If you ask her opinion, she can always give a pertinent answer, as if she has seen through the world and mastered the only truth, and everything else is just a derivative sameness.

I am an extremely boring person in life. Born to entertain gossip insulator, don't listen to songs or chase dramas. Those wonderful derivatives of modern society that can be used to kill a long time have almost nothing to do with me.

Fortunately, she is also a very quiet person, and we can simply spend the whole day without being disturbed by any electronic products. When I was cooking or reading, she was busy with her work alone. I feel as if she always has endless things to do, but she has been with me every spare time. We have never explored each other's world, but we get along well.

At that age when she dared not bear loneliness alone, she was in every corner where she was needed.

When the weather is fine, we will go to Montmartre to bask in the sun. Sitting on the steps in front of Whitechapel, watching the clouds in the sky, you chase after me and change different shapes.

I propose telling a story according to the shape of each cloud.

There happened to be a cloud on the horizon, like a lion with its teeth bared, so I told her:

"In Babylon, there were two lovers, a boy named Barre Moose and a girl named Despit. Once they were dating in the forest, Dippy went to the dating place first, but suddenly a lion jumped out beside them. The lion is preying on a cow. Dippy got scared and ran away. When she ran away, she accidentally left her coat, which was stained with cow blood. When Baremus came, he only saw bloody clothes on the ground and thought that his lover had been killed by a lion. So he was very sad and drew his sword and committed suicide. Later, Despit came back and saw Barre Moose commit suicide, crying, rushing to his side, picking up the sword and following his lover's double suicide ... "

Originally, this story is about a lover who loves each other, but can't be together because of various obstacles. Maybe it was a little sad and touched a corner of her heart. She was silent for a long time.

When I wanted to say something to comfort her, she suddenly sighed lightly, and it was so difficult to love each other for a lifetime. It is extremely rare for two people to fall in love at the same time. They have to face all the misunderstandings and accidents in life. It's a pity, but Despit and Baremus are lucky. At least they stay in the most beautiful moment and will not wear away with the years.

She looked up at the distance and asked me, maybe the clouds on the horizon.

"You say, what is the end of love?"

I shrugged and stared at the clouds that were blown out of shape.

"Who knows? Perhaps, just like in Paradise Lost, the ultimate love is destruction ... "

She shook her head and said nothing. ...

3.

We often play some strange games together to fill the blank life.

For example, one person will suddenly imitate a role in a literary work, speak and act, and another person will imitate another role to react. For example, the greedy Shylock met the miser Grandet, and I imitated the overlord of Chu and met her Dong Fangbubai. The ending is often unexpected and ironic, which makes us laugh.

For example, we will open a book at will, choose a sentence as the beginning, and each of us will continue to write stories for a period of time. No matter how sad the story is, the ending often leads to absurd joy, as if we are all tacitly avoiding those desolations and tragedies.

I still remember a midsummer afternoon, Mozart's notes jumped happily in the air, causing ripples in the quiet sunshine.

The white smoke from the tea on the table gradually blurred her face.

"Let's play a game," I broke the silence softly. "Draw with the shortest words."

She frowned slightly, with a trace of confusion in her eyes.

"I'll go first", I didn't explain it much. "Cold night."

"Lonely lamp?" She whispered uncertainly.

I nodded approvingly. "It's snowing."

"Corner." She came to join in the fun and took it without thinking.

"ok." I went on to say.

"Shut up." She seems to have mastered it.

I thought about it, "no return."

This seems to have stumped her, and my eyes are full of cunning.

She thought for a moment. "Sauvignon Blanc"

I paused and joked, "Are you talking about wine?"

She smiled. "think about it."

"Yes, yes," I continued with a smile. "the bell."

"Headlights." She thought for a moment, then cocked her head and said.

"Cold wind."

"Shower."

I burned the tip of my tongue with tea, shook my head and smiled at her: "Silly or not, where is the rain on a snowy night?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "The snow will be fine."

"Uh-huh," I put down my teacup and stared at her quietly for a few seconds.

"I'm coming." I said to her gently.

She suddenly smiled gently, and the summer sun swirled on her face.

Many years later, I will still recall the afternoon sunshine and her gentle and affectionate answer:

"The snow has melted."

4.

My heart is a little sensitive and delicate, and I occasionally do some melodramatic things.

Once, I was with a girl who first fell in love.

After lunch, I waited for her at the gate of the restaurant.

As soon as I went out, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was snowing heavily. So I walked into the dancing snow without hesitation. Squinting, letting the snow fall at will.

When the girl came out, I was almost half a snowman. I waved to her funny, but she was so angry that she couldn't understand why I was standing in the snow. On the one hand, it is my willfulness, and it is also out of concern for me.

I didn't say anything, just a little bored. Every snowflake falling all over the sky is twisted into a knot.

Later, I was still the one who let me lose my temper. I was only occasionally melodramatic when I was alone, and I had learned to behave like a "normal person" in front of people.

I remember having dinner with Gan Tang in an unknown French restaurant one day.

In the dim light, after a simple meal, she went to the bathroom, so I waited outside first.

The night in Paris came earlier, and the less bright street lamps struggled to hold up the curtain of the night. There are few pedestrians on the street, and only the sparse wind across the street brings the drizzle on the horizon.

I don't know why, I was dragged by some force in my soul and slowly stepped into the rain curtain all over the sky. The drizzle gently beats every corner of the skin. Every drop of rain is wrapped in the smell of clouds brought from the sky.

When she came out, I must have stood there wet and embarrassed.

There was not even a trace of surprise in her eyes, but a smile appeared on her face. Naturally, she didn't hold an umbrella and soon came to me in the rain. Push me an unopened umbrella, turn around and hug the rain happily and run to the front.

The two of us walked back in the rain tacitly, as if it was not rain that fell on us, but petals scattered all over the sky.

The midnight words in Paris come to mind, and I can't help feeling how lucky a person must be to meet someone who is willing to accompany you in the rain.

She hummed "Singin' in the Rain" happily, while hooking the street lamp in circles with her hand. Suddenly, she opened her hand and motioned for me to come over.

I walked up to her with a smile, but I was caught off guard. She threw herself into my arms.

At that moment, the world stopped.

Many years have passed, but it is still clear. Every drop of rain in the sky carries her mark.

And the wet kiss she left.

5.

Then I broke up with her somehow.

Maybe I can't keep the light until dark arrival.

Maybe I didn't pick the last leaf before the winter came.

Maybe I just watched her being pushed farther and farther away from me and disappearing gradually in the turbulent crowd, but I just hesitated, but didn't move forward.

More often, I think she has been reaching out to me, but I didn't hold it tightly, but stood there and let her look back at me and flow away.

At this point, people are separated from each other without any connection.

I happened to see someone discussing what an interesting soul is. I thought of her.

Even at that boring age, we still enjoy doing so many things that others find boring.

Hundreds of millions of souls wander in boredom between heaven and earth, each of which is colorless.

Only when you meet that special soul, no matter how depressed, dim, weird and boring it is, as long as you love it, it will become vivid and interesting, and it will be brightly lit in your world.

May every interesting soul have a person who loves it behind it.