@arikatochimoari
Profile
Registered: 3 years, 7 months ago
A few dogs barked in the distance, and all the dogs in the village barked, and then gradually calmed down. The night is long, a person in the lamp, this pouring out of pleasure makes him palpitate, and vaguely worried, feel that the front window and the back window have eyes in the darkness. He thought about whether the crack in the door was tight or not, and the door had been carefully examined many times, but he always felt footsteps outside the window. He stood up from the fire bucket and listened with bated breath, but there was no movement again. The moonlight was misty on the glass pasted with paper in the window, and the moonlight appeared in the middle of the night. He seemed to be aware of the movement outside the window, holding his breath and quietly moving to the head of the bed, pulling the switch tied to the head of the bed gently, a vague shadow reflected on the window, "fleeting.". He clearly heard the sound of the grass outside the window, and did not turn on the light again. Carefully and silently, he tidied up the manuscript on the table, went to bed, and secretly looked at the window, which was covered with white paper and illuminated by the moonlight. Under the moonlight of this Pure Brightness, there are still eyes around, peeping, watching, watching you. The misty moonlight is full of traps, waiting for you to make a mistake. You dare not open the door and push the window, dare not have any noise, although this quiet moonlight night people are asleep, a panic,plastic pallet bin, ambush around may rush up, arrest you. You can't think, you can't feel, you can't pour out, you cannot be alone! If you don't work hard, you snore and sleep; if you don't, you mate and seed, bind books and bear children, and raise laborers. What are you writing? Forget the environment you live in? Why do you want to rebel again? Be a hero or a martyr? What you wrote is enough to get you shot! How did you shoot the counter-revolutionary criminals when the county revolutionary committee was set up? By comparison, mass criticism can only be regarded as a small fight. The names and charges written in black ink on the signs hanging on their chests,collapsible bulk container, the crosses made in red ink on their names, and the tight strangulation of their throats with wire and the bulging of their eyes are also new inventions of the new red regime, which blocks the complaints before execution and can not be martyrs in the underworld. Two trucks, armed soldiers and police, armed with live ammunition, were escorted to various communes and villages for public display. A jeep in front led the way, and the loudspeaker on the roof was shouting slogans, which made dust fly and chickens fly and dogs jump along the way. The old woman and the big girl all came to the roadside at the entrance of the village, and the children ran behind the truck. The family member who collects the corpse has to pay 50 cents in advance for the lattice fee. You won't have anyone to collect the corpse. Your wife would have exposed you as an enemy at that time. Your father is also in the countryside to reform through labor, and he has an old counter-revolutionary father-in-law. You will not be wronged if you are killed for these reasons. You still have no injustice to cry, stop your pen and rein in at the brink of the precipice! But you say you are not an idiot, have a head can not but think, you do not revolutionize, do not be a hero or martyr, do not be a counter-revolutionary? You're just thinking outside the rules of this society. Are you crazy? It's you, not Qian, who is crazy. Look at this man, he wants to think! It's a big joke. All the old sisters-in-law and little girls in the village come to see it. This madman who should be shot! Two You said you were pursuing the truth of literature? Don't be ridiculous. What kind of truth does this man want? Truth is a plaything? Fifty cents a bullet-.. Come on, it's true that you have to risk your life to write it? Buried in the soil moldy that is true, plastic pallet manufacturer ,plastic pallet supplier, rotten or not rotten and do not care about it, you go to the end first! You said that what you want is a kind of transparent reality, like shooting a pile of garbage through the lens, garbage is garbage, but through the lens you can bring your sadness. What is true is your sadness. You feel sorry for yourself, and you must find a spirit that can make you bear the pain, so that you can continue to live, and create a realm that belongs to you outside the reality of this pigsty. Or, rather, it is "a myth of the present era", which puts reality in myth and gains interest from writing, so as to achieve a balance between survival and spirit. He transcribed the myth he wrote in a notebook left by his mother before her death, wrote Alepedes, made up the name of a foreigner, a Greek or any other country, and wrote Guo Moruo's translation. The old poet had just broken out during the Cultural Revolution and declared in the newspaper that all his previous works should be destroyed, so he survived by Mao's special grace. He can say that it was a translation by the old man Guo half a century ago. He transcribed it when he was in college. Who can verify it in this mountain village or even in the county town? The first half of the notebook was a diary of his mother's work on the farm before she drowned. Seven or eight years ago, during the famine caused by the "Great Leap Forward," his mother, just as he had gone to the "May 7th Cadre School," went to the farm to accept reform. She worked hard and saved several months of meat and egg tickets to wait for her son to come home to nourish him. What she saw was still a chicken farm, and she was so hungry that she was already swollen. When she got off the night shift at dawn, she went to the river to wash. I don't know whether she was too tired or weak from hunger, so she fell into the river. At daybreak, the farmer who released the ducks found the floating body, and the hospital's autopsy concluded that it was temporary cerebral anemia. He didn't see his mother's body. The only thing he kept by his side was this diary, which recorded some of his experiences in reform through labor, and also mentioned that she would take a vacation to go home and spend a few more days with her son who came back from college for the summer vacation. He copied the myth, signed by Alepedes, and later put it in a pickle with a lime bottom, and buried it in the soil under the water tank in the house. Section 45 On the days when farmers in the four townships go to the market, this small street in the town is lined with burdens and baskets, dried sweet potatoes, red dates, chestnuts, pine oil, firewood, fresh mushrooms, muddy lotus roots, fine white vermicelli, bundles of tobacco leaves and strips of dried bamboo shoots, fish and shrimps that are still jumping, strings of hemp shoes, bamboo chairs, water scoops, women and children, young and middle-aged men and old men, shouting and bargaining, do you want it? Don't forget it! Pulling and pulling, teasing and quarreling, this small mountain town still has a life if it doesn't make revolution. Secretary Lu, who had been sent down from the regional capital not long ago, was met head-on by a group of commune cadres, some of whom led the way, and some of whom followed behind, as if they were accompanying the chief to inspect. This old revolutionary of local guerrilla origin, who was called Secretary Lu by the villagers, had no good luck as an official. He had been beaten down layer by layer from all previous movements in the provincial capital and returned to his hometown. He was also a cadre sent down to the lower levels. These local snakes in the village worshipped him as a God, so naturally he did not have to work in the fields. "Secretary Lu," he also called out respectfully,wholesale plastic pallet, "the king of this mountain village." Are you from Beijing? Secretary Lu obviously knew that there was such a person as him. Yes, it's been a year. He nodded. Are you used to it? Secretary Lu asked again. He stopped. He was tall and thin, and he looked a little sick. cnplasticpallet.com
Website: https://www.cnplasticpallet.com/
Forums
Topics Started: 0
Replies Created: 0
Forum Role: Participant