Xi Murong's Short Prose

I stood under the moon and drew a pencil sketch. The moonlight was bright, and I stood in the middle of the field, drawing alternately with black and brown pencils. The first thing to draw is a row of jagged shadows in the distance, and their dense branches and leaves are painted extremely heavy and deep black. Under the tree is a slowly stretching building, with sweet potatoes planted in the ground, which is shallow and delicate in the moonlight. There is not a cloud in the whole sky, only moonlight and stars. What I can recognize is the hunter constellation, right in front of me, shining under the moon. The color of the sky is transparent and clean, just like the smell of the whole field at night. The moon is so bright, my sketch book reflects a soft white light, and all the fine and precise lines can be seen more clearly. I stood in the field and drew slowly, feeling very calm and quiet. Home is ten or twenty steps away. The children have finished their homework and gone to bed. My husband is doing his homework under his lamp. What about me? I decided to do my homework under the moon tonight. The dog next door came to have a look and was relieved to know it was me. After patrolling around several times, he simply fell asleep at my feet. On the contrary, my puppy was very upset. I didn't understand why I didn't go home, so I ran back and forth for a while, making a small noise between the stems and leaves of sweet potatoes.

The night in the country is surprisingly quiet, and the neighbors are used to going to bed early. Occasionally, pedestrians who go home at night just pass by the path by the field, sometimes coughing, and their voices become soft from the moonlight. What a nice moonlight! The light of the full moon permeates the whole earth, and all life on the earth has a color that can never be imagined during the day. Such a beautiful world is in front of my eyes, neither illusory nor a dream, but incredible. So, I think, after I put these sketches in order and draw this moonlight on the canvas, I'm afraid some people will think that what I describe is a kind of nihilistic beauty. I couldn't help laughing when I was painting. The wind blows from the other side of the field and shuttles back and forth between bamboo forests. The moon is higher and rounder, and the whole night sky is crystal clear. There should be such a clear moment in life. For me, I can think nothing and hope nothing, just pursue slowly and do my homework quietly under the moon.

I like telling a story to a class of 19-year-old and 20-year-old students who just started their oil painting class. This is the story of my college classmate. My classmate has a good foundation in painting and is serious. After entering the university, he vowed to paint all the way along the history of western art and create his own style after understanding and trying the ideas and techniques of various painting schools. He thinks that only in this way can we draw really solid works. In the first grade, his scenery was Cezanne's. In the second grade, Xi diligently announced to me: "I drew fauvism!" " "Then in the third and fourth grades, he taught and then went abroad. After years of silence, he finally got his doctorate and became an expert in art history and art theory. Every time I think about it, I don't know whether it is sad or happy. It turns out that to be a creative artist, you should not only know how to absorb a lot of knowledge, but also know how to exclude a lot of knowledge! Creation itself has a strong exclusivity.

An excellent artist is a person who can achieve the ultimate performance in a certain aspect, and because he wants to go to the extreme, it is impossible to completely follow the footsteps of others, let alone complete the road that others have traveled in their own lives. In the field of art, if you want to find your own perfection, you need to understand your own limits first, and you need to understand that you are different from others first. Because it is different, there are so many different faces in works of art. Like Brancusi, he can polish his "bird of space" so smoothly that the bronze statue almost becomes a jumping light and speed. However, Maio wanted to stop the flowing "river" and showed a heavy sense of quantity in the heroine statue. The world of light and shadow in pissarro is always peaceful, but the same light and shadow is always full of trembling and anxiety in Munch's brushwork. When every excellent artist reaches the acme, it is like opening a window of life for us. We hold our breath in front of one different scenery after another, and at the same time learn to choose what we want and what we have to give up.

Of course, some people are exceptions, just as there are often unexplained exceptions in life. In the history of art, some outstanding artists come and go freely, and there is almost no so-called "limit" in their lives. Like Leonardo da Vinci, he knows everything from astronomy, mathematics to physics. What should we do? Maybe we can only put him aside and not compare him? Otherwise, how can we calm the envy and jealousy burning like fire in our hearts? I believe that artists are jealous people.

Xi Murong's Essay Happiness 2

kingfisher

In the summer afternoon, a little kingfisher flew into my garden and stopped in the rose tree. I was pulling weeds in the garden, because there was a cordate telosma in front of me, so the little kingfisher didn't see me, so she boldly pecked the leaves that had just grown on the rose branches.

I was shocked by the bright green feathers. I held my breath and hid behind a tree. I said softly to the bird in my heart, "Little Kingfisher, please try your best to eat." Please stay a little longer and don't fly away too early. "

My most precious rose tree just now has become irrelevant. Just because the bud will grow again in the future, and this little kingfisher may only fly to my garden once in her life. I can't resist this absolute beauty. I would give anything for a moment's stay. I've always been like this for you.

magpie

In the sketch classroom, we saw two big black birds flying in front of the window.

I asked the students what it was. They answered me:

"Isn't that the magpie in our school?"

The sketch classroom is on the third floor of the art museum, surrounded by several tall eucalyptus and Casuarina trees. There are many birds hidden in the dense branches and leaves, and those magpies also feed on them.

For several years, they have always regarded our campus as their home. In addition to singing and dancing on the high treetops, they are often seen walking slowly in pairs on the grassy track and field in rainy days. What a big black bird, with white edges on its wings, wobbles on the ground and looks a bit like a duck from a distance.

For a while, the school wanted to re-plan the campus. Casuarina and eucalyptus, which have been planted for 30 years, have been cut down. The janitor marked the trunk to be cut off in each class with chalk. Standing on the campus, I feel that I have entered the fairy tale of Alibaba, and I find that every beautiful tree has been marked, and I am extremely anxious. The first question is:

"If all these trees are cut down, will magpies live there in the future?"

Fortunately, the plan didn't come true, and everyone finally agreed to keep these big trees as much as possible. So all the trees along the wall were carefully left behind when the art gallery was built. After the three-story building is completed, we can share the sunshine and rain on the treetops with all the birds.

In class, the magpies spread their wings outside the window and the teachers and students in the window exchanged knowing smiles. It turns out that the requirements for birds are not high. As long as we are willing to leave a few trees, as long as we don't disturb them unnecessarily, beautiful birds will stay with us in peace.

What about you? Are you like this?

A tree

I like to take the train, I like to go south or north slowly one stop at a time, and I like me during the journey.

Just because, in the middle of the journey, I don't belong to the starting point or the end point, I don't belong to anywhere or anyone. At this moment, I just need to belong to myself.

All the obligations, responsibilities, things to strive for or make concessions, and all the ties in the world are separated at the two ends of the railway track. I am in the carriage and have no desire. At that moment, the only thing I have to do, and the only thing I can do, is to sit quietly by the window and watch the exchange of scenery outside the window.

The scenery outside the window is constantly changing, and mountains and valleys stretch through. I see that in those forests, every tree grows thin and long. In order to win the sunshine, they grow by all euphemistic methods. Walking through a large paddy field, I saw a lonely tree in the middle of the ridge. Because of loneliness, it can spread its branches and leaves freely and looks like a big, thick and round umbrella.

In real life, I know I have to learn tolerance and forbearance, just like those trees in the dense forest. However, in spirit, please let me, let me grow into a sunny tree.

I also know that before this, I must first learn to be independent. In my deepest heart, I must learn not to seek attachment from anyone.

Fan Bai

But what should I do? How can you not seek attachment? In my heart, aren't you always there?

You are a small boat with white sails, moored in the unchanging harbor in my heart.

I have always had an expectation and hope for you.

When I was young, in those long sunny afternoons, I had nothing to do and was fearless, just because I knew that there was an eternal wait in life. Frustrations come and go, tears flow and are put away. Nothing can discourage me, because I still have a long way to go, and you, you will definitely come.

Today, the sun is still shining, and I am halfway. On the winding road, I never rest, only dare to pause occasionally, miss you, find you and wait for you.

Fog drifted gently from behind me, and my eyes gradually blurred. I think you may or may not come. I'm starting to get scared.

Also began to cherish all the beautiful things. Whether it is a small kingfisher or a magpie Qi Fei; Whether facing a young and happy heart or a graceful tree; I will always look for you there seriously, thinking that you might be there, fearing that you might already be here and I didn't notice.

Days pass by in hope and waiting, and I always feel as if you have been here and have never been here. Where are you? What are you really like?

One day, I will grow old like everyone else, right? One day, my hair, which is still soft and smooth at the moment, will all turn silver. One day, I will encounter a desperate situation and an irreversible ending. At that time, the only thing that could make me smile with tears in my eyes was probably you.

And the boat with white sails that I've never really been near.

Xi Murong's Short Prose 3 "xiaohongmen"

There are many things in this world that you think you can continue to do tomorrow. There are many people, you think you will meet again tomorrow; So, when you put down for a while, or turn around for a while, you only have the hope of meeting again tomorrow, and sometimes you don't even feel this hope. Because, you think that since the days are coming day by day, of course, they will pass day by day. Yesterday, today and tomorrow should be no different.

However, there will be one time: when you put down and turn around, everything will change completely. The sun goes down, and some people will say goodbye to you before it rises again.

Just like I waved goodbye to xiaohongmen that afternoon. There is a small yard behind xiaohongmen. There is a green window behind the yard. The window was open when I left, and there was grandma's bedroom. Grandma sat on the bed, facing the window, facing the yard and facing the red door, crying loudly. Because I have loved her for 20 years, my granddaughter who finally wants to study abroad like others has already gone far outside the Red Gate. I don't know what was on my grandmother's mind at that time. I only remember that when I pulled xiaohongmen from behind, tears were running down her face behind the open window.

And that was the first time I saw grandma so excited, and I couldn't help feeling very sad. Although grandparents and grandchildren tried to smile before saying goodbye, when that moment came, grandma, who was usually so strong, finally collapsed. And I have to admit with shame that although my heart was full of the pain of parting at that time, the excitement of going abroad still existed. It is for this reason that I shed fewer tears than the old man, so that I can wave my hand and smile behind the window before taking xiaohongmen with me. Although I walked out of the alley with sore eyes, I took a deep breath after stepping on the bus and was able to think of other things. Besides, I think I will come back soon anyway, and we will meet again soon anyway. Besides, I think, when I leave, my brother will stand behind my grandmother. With my brother around, my grandmother won't cry for long. Grandma really hasn't cried for a long time After that summer, another summer has passed, and it is still far from the third summer. Grandma left.

My family didn't tell me the news. Almost a month later, it's about1early February. One weekend afternoon, I went to teach overseas Chinese children's school as usual. I arrived early that day, before the students came, and there was a stack of aviation pages of domestic newspapers on the square table, so I sat down and slowly turned them over. It seems that I saw a short article in the supplement of the Second Newspaper. At first glance, the first thing I saw was my grandfather's name. At first I thought it was about his life. But a closer look at the title is written by Mr. Shi: "To Mr. Le, to Princess Bao Guanglian."

My only feeling at that time was that my hands and feet were suddenly extremely cold, and I understood why the old man was so excited on the day of parting. Did she have a presentiment that it was time to say goodbye when xiaohongmen passed? This time, it was my turn to burst into tears in a foreign dusk with infinite regret.

In our world, time is the longitude and space is the latitude, and a series of joys and sorrows are carefully woven, which is very regular. In fact, every corner and every knot has a secret mark. At that time, we were at a loss, but when we looked back, we suddenly found that all the veins were vivid, and then smiled and understood the pain and sadness.

At the moment of looking back, time stays and never dies. The stream flowing under the shade of ferns and wild peonies is still young, the sky is full of clouds, and my heart is full of your love and care for me.

If people can be reincarnated, if there is reincarnation in the world, then, I love, what was our previous life like?

If you are a woman picking lotus in Jiangnan, I am the one you miss under your wrist. If you are the urchin who plays truant, I am the brand-new marble that fell out of your schoolbag, watching you unconsciously walk in the grass by the roadside. If I were a monk with a wall, I would be a burning incense in front of the temple and spend a quiet time with you.

So when we meet in this life, we always feel a little unfinished, just in a trance, unable to tell you in detail.

I've always wanted to walk that beautiful road with you. There are soft winds and white clouds, and you are by my side, listening to my happy and grateful heart.

My request is actually very small, as long as I live such a summer, as long as I live such a time. And what comes to me day after day are unexpected arrangements, and there are so many trivial mistakes that I finally understand tonight.

All the joys and sorrows have become ashes, and I can't walk with you on any road in the world.

Xi Murong's Short Prose 7 Let me return the pen I borrowed from you.

Everything happened in the moment of looking back.

If my epiphany is due to a kind of confusion, then my various confusions are not due to an epiphany?

Looking back, I suddenly found that all my efforts in this life were just to satisfy the people around me. In order to win others' praise and smile, I put myself into all the patterns and all the shackles with trepidation.

Halfway through, I suddenly found myself with only a vague face and a road that I couldn't turn back.

Let me return the pen I borrowed from you.

Xi Murong's Short Prose 8 Let me return the pen I borrowed from you.

They say that in this world, everything must have an end.

Not all people can know the meaning of time, and not all people know how to cherish time. Too many people like to divide everything into paragraphs, and each paragraph should end firmly. And how much hope in the world will not end, and how much attention and thoughts will not stop after the end. My dear friend! Only a few people will notice that the deepest spring in life will never stop. There is no fate of separation and aging in this world, only a heart willing to love and a heart unwilling to love.

The spring is still there, and the years fly by.

Let me return the pen I borrowed from you.

Xi Murong's Short Prose 9 Let me return the pen I borrowed from you.

On that high and cold mountain, all the firs continue to grow upwards.

That night, I walked into the mountains, stood in the moonlight and whispered some extremely humble longings for life.

That night, the mountain forest has been listening with tears, listening to my simple and beautiful heart, but it can't warn me, just looking at the twists and turns in front of me.

Watching me go away, all the fir trees try to wave to me in the wind. They know that at the end of the road, there will be a sad time to look back.

Looking back sadly, I saw clouds flowing and trees covered with green and blue.

It all ended in the moment of looking back.

Let me return the pen I borrowed from you.

Xi Murong's essay 10 My father is seventy this year. I told him on the long-distance phone that I wanted to dedicate my solo exhibition in the gallery of the National Museum of History in June to him as a birthday present. My father smiled on the other end of the phone, and I don't know whether it was happy or ridiculous.

Growing up, I have always been a "ridiculous" role among sisters. My homework is not as good as theirs, and my looks are not as good as theirs, but I always hope my parents can love me more, so I often do many ridiculous things.

However, all efforts are just to win a happy and understanding smile from parents.

The exhibition was held as scheduled. I drew a lotus with a size of 300. I drew a pool of flowers and leaves on the whole wall. It took me a whole year to nail the frame, paint the background color and then compose the composition. On the opening day, there was a typhoon crossing the border, and there was heavy rain, but my friends braved the rain whenever they were free, and they all liked this painting very much.

On that day, I always had a deep sense of happiness. I have always wanted to see how to describe my happiness to my parents. Find so many friends who love me, support me and encourage me. Anyway, this time, my parents should be proud of me!