That village. I am the only one left.
Years later, I was like a madman on the road. I stumbled and found this road that I had lost in my heart for a long time. The end of the road belongs to that village.
I never knew how much resentment I had towards this village. The sky of the village was like Zhang Tianwang cage me in it. The forest beside the village blocked my bird’s way, and the big dog behind him stared at the food in front of him, boiling wildly. I hate this cage-like village and pay attention to my fleeting youth.
I kept recalling the story about me and this village on this road, and finally arrived at the village unconsciously.
At this time, the village was enveloped by the haze of the sky and blocked by the dense forest beside the village from the sunshine it could have previously obtained. The desolation filled the quiet village. At this time, I looked for my home with my nose like a dog.
Now I am the only one left in this village. At first, I thought that the dog in front of the door would shake its tail when I saw it, but I didn’t expect that my dog could not find any traces of his partner. Many houses in the village are hidden in the shadow of the tree, and my house is behind that tree.
When a dog loses its original nest, it will look everywhere for a kennel that can pay attention to his rebellion. I have been free outside for too long, but I am eager to trap my kennel in those years.
I opened my door and the spider webs covered the house. Unfortunately, this was not the Skynet I was looking. Like a depressed dog, he walked out of the house. The flourishing freedom in the village in those years only belonged to the Skynet and forest in those years, but now, there is only me left in the village.
There was once a poet in the village who wrote a poem: I want to get rid of that Cage and become a happy bird. I think that is also a kind of freedom. But now, the poet is swaying like a madman on the road or a dog with lost soul. I only know that crazy poet longed for freedom when he was young, but now he dreamed of Cage, a poet who called himself high and low.
The wind opens the door for me, close the door for me. One person’s village could not stop the gust of cold wind blowing from the north. I want to hide in this village, shut my half-time prosperity outside the village, and enjoy the warmth brought by the village to my later generations alone.
After a few days, the dog a few years ago found its way, saw me and shook its tail. A person may be free for too long. He should find a corner to calm himself down and find the road to his dream in his heart. If he is tired of walking, the village is the best dog kennel.
The setting sun gradually fell that day, one person, one dog and one village.
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