I like to be quiet by nature. When I walk on the busy streets, I always feel that the drier air is filled with dry particles and the smell of dust is everywhere. Constantly rattling your eardrums. My vision, hearing, and taste can easily get into a state of irritability and exhaustion, so I always choose to walk in the alleys. After walking for a long time, another strange scenery will stay in your heart.
Many of today’s alleys can no longer be called alleys. The boundaries are blurred by steel and concrete and have become gaps between buildings. Sometimes when I look up, I may see the eyes of each aluminum alloy window. I also became a gap, so I turned my attention to the long and narrow sky. The sky was no longer endlessly blue, oppressing me and often making me breathless. It was as slender as me, which made me feel that even the sky was much more friendly and easy-going. It added a lot of leisurely contentment to me. I walked through the alleys more frequently.
I heard my grandmother say that in the old town, the eaves of every house were connected. No matter how heavy the rain was, it didn’t matter if you didn’t bring an umbrella. You could walk under the eaves of every house, or push aside the eaves of this house. Turn the gate twice and then open the small door, and you may be back at the entrance of your alley. There are few creaking wooden doors nowadays, and security doors coldly refuse your approach. I only walked through one road called Lijia Lane, and I was surprised to find that this may be the only alley left in the town that allows one to enter the house in a dignified manner. The sun was very bright that day. I was walking around in the alley. There was a high lintel standing there. A group of old people were taking a nap against the wall with a charcoal stove made of stoneware. I stepped across the knee-high wooden threshold. , there is also a moss-stained patio inside, which I find very novel. There are many families living around, nursing their children, knitting, picking vegetables and smiling at me in a friendly way. At first, I thought I was entering someone else’s house. , it didn’t look like it. Someone saw my embarrassment and pointed to the left. I stood in front of a small wooden door again. I thought it couldn’t be someone’s kitchen. I walked through a dark mud path in the middle of winter. Seven I came out after eight turns, and inadvertently looked up and saw the huge neon sign on the street.
There was originally an alley called Mishi Street in the town, which might have been dedicated to selling rice. A string of firecrackers went off at the end of the alley, and the sulfur gas and sales gas could escape to the end of the alley. Due to the renovation of the old city, it was A slender and graceful girl has become a pregnant woman with a large area. Now she not only sells rice, but has become the largest market in the town. The hens on the back of the house in front of the house used to cluck to announce the good news, and the sows hummed. The sounds of people looking for food and dogs chasing each other were lost in the hustle and bustle of people. The alley next to the middle school is short, but mostly has high walls made of blue bricks with flying eaves. Broken dragon whiskers and yellowed carp scales indicate the prosperity and wealth that once existed here. Few people care about the well at the entrance of Dajing Alley. The walls of the well are covered with moss and the edge of the well is gouged by the well rope. They all stand there lonely, covered in dust, quietly recalling the bustle of the past. One meter ahead, the busiest street in the town was bustling with excitement. Electric Light Alley has been cut into several sections by high-rise buildings. Looking back at the time when we longed for electric lights to replace the kerosene lamps that made our noses black, I seemed to see my grandmother with her little feet tremblingly carrying a basket of white linen to find someone. She was woven into something, her gray hair was pulled into a small and meticulous bun by hair oil, she held on to the wall and walked carefully along the narrow alley paved with slippery cobblestones, the wind blew her slanted blue cloth A corner of the gown was lifted up, and there was a bit of the rotten smell of foot-binding cloths in the air. At the entrance of the alley, there is a dull barber who still hangs a long greasy sharpening cloth at the door, patiently waiting for the few regular employees to come and take care of the remaining hair. The door of Changgengmen is still there, with many more decorative patterns. This alley where most fishermen lived in my childhood impression always has a wet ground, and there are often people with their trousers rolled up high sitting on the big bluestone at the door. Talking loudly about fish, smoking the bitter and spicy local tobacco rolled into a trumpet, there is a moist and salty smell lingering in the air. Nowadays, some people still set up thick beams under the Xinxin balcony to hold the overturned large wooden boat. There are traces of insects in many places on the hull, and the wood is so dry that it has cracked. It is a nostalgic Dragon Boat Festival. Festival, the thrilling dragon boat race disappeared with the fragrance of wormwood leaves and smoke. Grandma used the washed green palm leaves to tie the white glutinous rice tightly and cooked it in the big iron pot. , by my mother’s generation, it had been replaced by the instant rice dumplings sold in the market, and the taste was no longer there. The Xixi Terrace is no longer there, the Confucian Temple has been reduced to ashes, Lao Li, who walked the streets giving people haircuts, has disappeared, and the sound of sharpening scissors and kitchen knives has disappeared. Many things I repeatedly searched for in the alleys ended up missing. , instead of floors, there are blue glass, metal handles, granite, and all kinds of wire tubes like spider webs...
As long as you are willing, come to this small town called Meijiang in southern Gansu. Let's go. This beautiful town that gives people the impression of green plums covering the river is waiting for you. If you have time, slowly walk in its alleys, as if you are walking in her blood, and you will feel like you have a drop in your mouth. The intriguing taste of green plums penetrates directly into your gums and tooth roots.
The alley is the most senior old man in the city. With the culture she has accumulated over the years, she tells those who come later what kind of past there was here; In the store, she is telling how things have changed here.
She is calm and serene. Like every elderly person, she likes to close her eyes and count the past.
Therefore, most of the time, when you enter the alleys from the noisy streets, the silence here will make you feel happy for a moment. The names of the alleys in Xiamen are also interesting, and they are beautiful because of the stories. Miss Zeng’s Lane will tell you what a kind and beautiful Miss Zeng who was killed for not collaborating with her husband once lived here, and how people built ancestral halls and set up memorial tablets in memory of her; Dingdaren Lane will tell you about this place. There was once a clever ten-year-old boy who dared to contradict the government to protect the innocence of his family; in the Jiangjun Temple, two generals with outstanding military exploits, Wu Ying and Shi Lang, built temples here... She told the alley culture to generations of Xiamen people, Those seemingly legendary stories all reveal the kindness of Xiamen people and the warmth of this city.
She also likes to be lively, and like every old person who is unwilling to be lonely, she likes to open her eyes and look at the changing world. Someone once said that Xiamen people’s attachment to alleys may be due to their deep love for family. There are many homes in the alley, and they are all close together. It is not like living in a building for a year and not knowing who your neighbors are. The feelings of the people in the alley are the same as the place where they live. They live close together. During the New Year and festivals, they visit each other and it is lively. The children run hide and seek in the alley, and the adults gather together to tease each other. Everyone has his own thing. A pleasure. In normal days, there will be happy events and riots in other houses. Sadness, sorrow, joy and joy are the lives of people in the alley, and they will never be lonely.
The alleys carry the authentic customs and culture of southern Fujian. In an alley with a long history, there will always be an ancestral hall or a vicissitudes of old tree. They are tokens of the old man in the alley. They have been with her since she was young. Now that she is old, these tokens are no longer with her. They are all covered with traces of time. Grandma's house is in the alley. There is an old banyan tree that has grown for decades in the alley. Under the tree, there are old people singing operas and drinking tea. Xiamen people like to call chatting "talking fairy". There is nothing in the world that cannot be discussed. Most Xiamen people are religious. During the New Year and festivals, the ancestral halls in the alleys are full of incense, and they just pray for the safety of their families and all the best in the crowded crowds. This is somewhat similar to the contentment mentality of Beijingers who can eat just a little spicy cabbage.
In Xiamen, when you stop and go, you can always see the deep alleys. They are born in the city and hidden in the city. Alley culture is the most charming culture in Xiamen.
In my memory, the alleys of my hometown contain a kind of emotional charm. The alley is deep, long, and winding. Looking at the bluestone in front of me, it seems that it has reached the end. But when I walk past it and turn a corner, I can still see the deep alleys. A few dogs barking in the empty alley, and a rooster crows in the middle of the night. The alley became quieter and quieter. At the dawn of cold winter, a traveling businessman walked out of the alley with his arm in the wind and snow, and a string of lonely footprints were printed on the frosty ground. I couldn't help but think of my frail and sick father, who was forced to make a living and walked alone in the snow and frosty weather. The poem "The chicken sings in the Maodian moon, and the frost on Banqiao is everywhere" suddenly came to my mind, and a trace of thoughts stirred up the bitter taste.
In the deep alleys, there are mostly small farm households, except for one ancient house and compound. The dark door is somewhat mysterious. There was an old man wearing a shabby cotton-padded jacket, crouched and waiting at the door to buy old mustard greens. Regardless of the cold, he picked back and forth in the vegetable basket with trembling hands, for fear of suffering a loss. Don't think that he is a servant of this wealthy family. In fact, he is the richest man in the family. He is a famous miser. He gnaws on old mustard greens every day, while his wife colludes with her son and daughter-in-law to steal money and food, squandering and enjoying life to the fullest. Beauty is in her mouth. The old man is beautiful in his dream.
What I will never forget is: diagonally across from my house there was an old widowed woman who leaned against the door and looked at her every day. The cold wind tore her white hair, and her dull eyes stared at the alley, waiting for her son. Return. It is said that when she was young, her husband crossed the ocean to work in Nanyang, and there was no news after he left. She suppressed her grief and worked hard to raise the orphan into an adult. Unexpectedly, one night, the security guard suddenly broke into the small house with a group of young men, and without any explanation tied up her only child as a young man. After waking up from the heart-breaking heart, she was dumbfounded and dazed. She leaned on the door dreamily every day, full of emotions. The frost on their faces hurt passers-by.
There is a Town God's Temple at the end of the alley, and a blind fortune teller and his daughter live in a dilapidated house next to it. Every morning, the little girl takes the blind father out to tell fortunes with his horoscopes. The girl is calm and slightly melancholy. She always holds an oil-paper umbrella to protect her father from the sun and rain. The stumbling steps create a unique charm, which makes people feel that on the journey of life, there will always be scorching sun, bitter rain, wind and frost. Attack of ice and snow. The figures of father and daughter, who leave early and return late, have walked into the dreamland of my longing so calmly and sadly for more than ten years. Finally, one day I can no longer see them, leaving a trace of melancholy that still lingers on my pale temples. old man's heart.
Of course, the alley is not only a place where bitter memories occur, it is also filled with the joy of my childhood. Whenever the spring orioles fly and the grass grows in March, the fields behind the alley become green and green, as charming as a young girl in love. The soft wind carries the fragrance of pea flowers and milkvetch, and we poor children will lead the calves. , went to graze in groups of three and five, each carrying a small sickle and a small basket to dig shepherd's purse and malan heads. The calves were full and the baskets were full of wild vegetables. Everyone rolled around on the hillside and sang wild songs naughtily and loudly: "Shepherd's Purse Malantou, my sister married outside the alley. I raised silkworms to make cocoons and wrapped up a grandma." head.
Sister, sister, I am so hungry that I am reduced to a handful of skinny bones..." My friends back then have now plowed deep grooves on their foreheads, and some have withered like rape flowers.
Farewell to Hometown The alley has been there for more than half a century. It was only during my hometown trip last summer that I could no longer find the alley in my dream. It had long since become a snack street, and the food stalls on the whole street were booming. , the pots and spoons are noisy, the food is fragrant, dumplings, wontons, pork trotters, steamed buns, rice and pig's trotters, all kinds of snacks are available. The women of the mountain city are real, and they support themselves with their simplicity and hard work. Surprisingly, there are young and beautiful girls wearing navel-baring clothes, revealing a circle of white belly, and their drawn navel eyes are wide open; from time to time, there are also yellow hair, blue eye circles, black lipstick, and red nails, during the day. Three or five people swaggered past in the small street, which reminded me deeply of the blind girl.
The color of the alley became more colorful, more spacious and lively, and more exciting. I don't know it anymore.