Blind fortune-telling Gannan

I want to write Ryan. Can't you think of any good sentences?

I am a quiet person by nature. Walking on the busy streets, I always feel that the air with little rain is full of dry particles and the smell of dust everywhere, which makes the expanding concrete mixer in the town constantly disturb your eardrums. My vision and hearing, including my sense of taste, easily enter a state of irritability and fatigue, so I always choose to walk in the alley. After walking for a long time, I have another strange scenery in my heart.

Now many alleys can no longer be called alleys, and the boundaries are blurred by reinforced concrete, which has become a gap between buildings. Sometimes when I look up, I may be regarded as a gap by the eyes of every aluminum window, so I turn my eyes to the narrow sky, which is no longer endless blue and oppresses me. It is as slender as me, which makes me feel that even the sky is kind and easy-going, adding a lot of leisure. I travel through the alleys more frequently.

I heard from my grandmother that the eaves of every household in the old city are open. It doesn't matter if it rains heavily without an umbrella. Walking under the eaves of every family, or pushing open the door of this family for two turns and then pushing open the small door, you may return to your alley. There are few creaking wooden doors now, and the security door coldly refuses your approach. I only walked through a road called Li Jiaxiang. I was surprised to find that this may be the only alley left in town where I can openly enter my room. It was sunny that day, and I wandered in the alley. There is a high lintel, on which a group of old people are taking a nap with a charcoal stove made of coarse pottery. I walked through the knee-high wooden threshold, and there was a patio covered with moss, which made me fresh. There are many families living around. They feed their children, knit wool, pick vegetables and smile at me in a friendly way. At first I thought I was in someone else's house. I stood in front of a small wooden door again. I don't think that's someone else's kitchen. I drilled a dark muddy road in the dead of winter, and it took seven turns and eight turns to get out. I inadvertently looked up and saw the huge neon sign on the street.

There used to be an alley in town called Mishi Street, which may be specialized in selling rice. A string of firecrackers sounded at the end of the alley, and sulfur gas and needle gas could reach the end of the alley. Because of the transformation of the old city, from a slim girl to a large area of pregnant women. Now it not only sells rice, but also has become the biggest market in the town. Hens in front of and behind every house used to cackle to report good news, sows groaned for food and dogs barked. Although the alley next to a middle school is short, most of it is a high wall made of blue bricks, and the eaves fly up layer by layer. The broken dragon whiskers and yellow carp scales show the glory and wealth here. The well at the entrance of Dajing Lane has been ignored by few people. The mossy shaft wall and the edge of the well that has been worn through by the well rope all stop there alone, quietly reminiscing about the once lively noise under the cover of dust, and looking at the busiest street in the town one meter ahead, full of noise and excitement. The electric light alley has been blocked by tall buildings. Looking back on those years when I longed for electric lights to blacken my nose instead of kerosene lamps, I seemed to see my grandmother, with trembling little feet, carrying a basket of white summer cloth to find someone to knit it into objects. Her gray hair was pinched into a fine bun by the hair oil. Holding the wall, she walked carefully along the narrow alley paved with slippery pebbles. The wind lifted her oblique blue cloth coat to a corner, and there was a little foot binding in the air. At the entrance of the alley, there is a wooden barber, still hanging a long greasy sharpening cloth at the door, patiently waiting for the official staff to take care of the rest of the hair. The Chang Gung Gate is still there, decorated with many patterns. When I was a child, I remembered the alley with the most fishermen. It was always wet. People with high trouser legs often sit on the big bluestone at the door and talk loudly about fish, smoking small, bitter and spicy tobacco, and the air smells wet and salty. Now, there are still people who set up thick beams under the new balcony and put aside overturned wooden boats. There are traces of moth-eaten in many places on the ship, and the wood is cracked when it is dry. Unforgettable Dragon Boat Festival, exciting dragon boat race, all gone with the fragrance of mugwort leaves and kitchen smoke. Grandma tied the washed green palm leaves and white glutinous rice tightly together and cooked them in a large iron pot. By the time of her mother's generation, it had been sold in the market. Xixitai is gone, Confucius Temple is gone, Lao Li who cuts people's hair all over the street is gone, the sound of sharpening scissors and chopping knives is gone, and many things I have been looking for repeatedly in the streets are gone. Instead, there are floors, blue glass, metal handles, granite and various pipes like cobwebs. ...

As long as you are willing, take a walk in Meijiang, a small town in southern Jiangxi. This beautiful town gives the impression that plums are all over the river. When you have free time, walk slowly in her alley, just like walking in her blood, like the plum in your mouth, and the intriguing taste will seep into your gums and roots.

Alley is the most experienced old man in this city. With her accumulated culture for many years, she tells those who came later what the past was like here. The changing roads and shops around the corner are what she is telling about the changes here.

She is calm and serene. Like every old man, she likes to close her eyes and count the past. So many times, when you walk from a noisy street into an alley, the silence here will make you feel happy for a moment. The name of the alley in Xiamen is also very interesting, because it has a story, so it is beautiful. Zengguniang Lane will tell you what kind of kindness and beauty Zengguniang once lived here, and how people built ancestral temples and memorial tablets to commemorate her. Ding Daren Lane will tell you that there was once a clever ten-year-old boy who dared to contradict the government in order to save his family's innocence. In the General Temple, there are two famous generals, Wu Ying and Shi Lang, who built temples here ... She told the stories of the alley culture of several generations of Xiamen people, and all the seemingly legendary stories revealed the kindness of Xiamen's human nature and the warmth of the city.

She likes to be lively. Like every old man who is unwilling to be lonely, she likes to open her eyes and look at this changing world. Some people say that Xiamen people's attachment to alleys may be due to deep homesickness. There are many families in the alley, and each family is close to each other. It won't happen like living in a building for a year without knowing who the neighbors are. People in the alley feel the same as where they live. During the holidays, they visited each other and had a good time. Children run hide-and-seek in the alley, while adults get together for fun and have fun. On ordinary days, who has a happy event and then quarrels. Sorrow, sadness, joy and joy are the lives of people in the alley, and they will never be lonely.

Alleys also carry the original Minnan customs and culture. In an old alley, there is always an ancestral temple or an old tree. They are souvenirs of the old people in the alley. They have been with her since she was young, but now that she is old, these souvenirs are full of traces of time. Grandma's house is in the alley. There is an old banyan tree that has been growing for decades. Under the tree, there are old people singing opera and drinking tea. Xiamen people like to call chatting a "talking fairy". Nothing in the world can't be discussed. Most Xiamen people have faith. During the Chinese New Year holiday, incense fills the air in the ancestral hall in the alley, and I just want to seek the safety of the whole family and all the best in the crowded crowd. This is somewhat similar to the mentality that Beijingers can eat a little spicy cabbage.

In Xiamen, stop-and-go, stop-and-go, you can always see those deep alleys, which were born in the city and hidden in the city. Lane culture is the most fascinating culture in Xiamen.

In my memory, the alley in my hometown contains a feeling. The alley is deep, long and winding. Looking at the green flag in front of us, it seems that it has come to an end, but after walking over, it is still a deep alley. Several dogs barked in the empty alley, and a crow barked in the middle of the night, which made the alley more and more silent. At the dawn of winter, the traveling business travelers walked out of the alley with snow on their shoulders, and a series of lonely footprints were printed on the frosty ground. I can't help thinking that my sick father was forced by his livelihood and walked alone in the snow and frost. The poem "The thatched cottage crows and the lonely bridge frost" suddenly appeared in my mind, and a wisp of thoughts came to my mind.

In the deep alley, most of them are small farmers, and there is only one old house compound, and the dark door is blocked somewhat mysteriously. There was an old man in a shabby cotton-padded jacket, hunched over, waiting at the door to buy old mustard. Although it was very cold, he trembled and picked around in the basket for fear of losing money. Don't think that he is a servant of this big family. In fact, he is the richest man in charge and a notorious miser. He eats mustard tuber every day, but his little wife colludes with her son and daughter-in-law to steal money and grab food and indulge in pleasure. Beauty is in her mouth, but the beauty of the old man is in her dream.

What I will never forget is that there is a lonely old woman diagonally opposite my house who leans against the door and watches every day. A cold wind pulled up her white hair and stared at the alley, waiting for her son to return. It is said that when she was young, her husband went across the ocean to work in Nanyang, and there was no news after he went there. She fought back her grief and tried to raise orphans. Unexpectedly, one night, Chang Bao suddenly broke into a low house with Tuanding and tied her only seedling into a strong man. Heartbroken, she woke up silly and stupefied. She leans against the door every day and her face is frostbitten by passers-by.

There is a city god temple in the alley, and there are two blind fathers and daughters living in the shabby house next to it. Every morning, the little girl takes her blind father out to tell fortune. Girls are quiet and slightly melancholy. She always holds an oiled paper umbrella to protect her father from the sun and rain. The slow pace gives birth to a unique charm, which makes people feel that there seems to be an attack from the sun, rain, wind, frost, snow and ice all the time on the journey of life. Father and daughter leave early and return late. For more than ten years, they have quietly and sadly walked into my dream of missing. Finally, one day they never appeared again, leaving a wisp of melancholy, which still occupies the heart of my pale old man.

Of course, alleys are not all places where bitter memories are born, but they are also full of the joy of my childhood. Every March, when the orioles grow and the grass grows in spring, the field behind the alley is green and new, as charming as the girl in the seed of love. The soft wind is blowing, with the fragrance of pea flowers and Chinese milk vetch. Our poor children eat grass with calves, each with a small sickle and a small basket to dig shepherd's purse and Malantou. When the calf was full and the wild vegetables were dug up, everyone rolled around the hillside and wittily sang wild songs: "Malantou shepherd's purse, my sister married outside the lane." Silkworms are raised as cocoons, and a grandmother wraps her head. Sister, sister, I'm so hungry that I'm skinny ... "My friends in those days have now plowed deep ditches on their foreheads, and some of them have withered like rape flowers.

It has been more than half a century since I left my hometown alley, and I didn't go back to my hometown until last summer. The alley in the dream can no longer be found, and it has already become a snack street. In the evening, the food stalls in the whole street are booming, pots and pans are ringing, dishes are fragrant, jiaozi is wrapped in blunt shredded pork noodles, steamed bread, rice and pig's trotters are cooked and eaten, and there are all kinds of leisure snacks, all of which are "female soldiers" of the same owner. The women in the mountain city are real. With their simplicity and hard work, they have propped up the blue sky of their homes. In fact, there are also beautiful young girls wearing navel dresses, showing a circle of white bellies, and the painted belly buttons are round; From time to time, there are yellow hair, blue eyes, black lipstick and red nails, and three or five of them pass by in the small street during the day, which reminds me of the blind father girl.

The color of the alley has become gorgeous, spacious and lively, which I can't understand.