Willing to be a fish in the river

Days like water, slowly, over the ankles, over the knees, suddenly overflow the chest.

Everyone is like a fisherman, being taken by fish and wandering into the depths of the river.

Those fresh, cunning fish are suddenly like arrows, and you can't catch them.

This time, the fish should make fun of me again. It makes fun of me for ten thousand reasons.

Look at yourself, what a shadow only. In this modest river, it has been several decades. Decades have passed, but they are still empty-handed. The rest, it's still a lump, a hat and a pole.

I am too familiar with this river to look at it again.

For this river, I'm too strange, and sometimes I feel like a foreign country. Yes, I'm too busy and tired to live. I haven't looked at many beautiful scenery carefully.

Immersed in water, sometimes I think, just lie down. Even if it sinks down, you should have a good look at the clouds in the sky before. Or, just send a flood, and even I, along with those fishing rods and baskets, will be washed away. I am willing to be a fish in the river.

It's best to make a light fish. This is a kind of fish with high requirements on water quality. A kind of fish that likes to grow in cold areas, likes to live alone and live alone.

Every day, holding a tired body and carrying a light fish basket back, facing those disappointed eyes, it becomes increasingly pale bangs, always sad and sorry.

Only in dreams, occasionally I dream of the sea.

Dreaming that I was the captain, the captain of the 10,000-ton ship galloping on the waves. The captain with a cigar and a uniform as white as snow. The man looked up at his glasses and stared at the captain in the distance. The mechanical net on the ship, the net like the sky, once thrown out and recovered, is hundreds of thousands of fish: big and small, long and short, round and flat, brown and white-those lovely fish!

I'm thinking, this time, it's time to use these fish for some better fabrics, dress up my wife and children brightly, and no longer be looked at by others. It's time to change some good wine and dishes, and honor the old people. It's too difficult for the old people in this life.

Once, I heard myself crying in my dream: I must have caught a lot of fish.

Another time, I dreamed that I really became a fish, swimming happily in the spring. On that occasion, I even heard my long-lost laughter.

It seems that some ancient people said that fish is happier than people. It seems to be.

When you fall asleep, you will feel a little hot. It seems that the sun will come out again.

As soon as the sun came out, the days began again.

My life, submerged in a small river.

Every day, in the river, I chase fish and water chase me. There is also the water of time, which is chasing me.

Every day, every day, I ask: When can I go ashore when I fish?