It is said that a snake has to shed its skin many times in its life, and every time it sheds its skin, it grows a little bigger.
Especially after hibernation, the temperature rises, and the snakes lurking everywhere open their eyes. The sun warmed the stone slowly, the snake's blood flowed, and the bones were itchy, and it began to move around and look for food.
The snake's body gradually swelled up, and the aging skin made it uncomfortable like a sock.
It slid out from the place where white-flowered vines and rotten roots of ancient trees tangled, climbed over petunias, came to some hard places, rubbed the itch on the head, and shed its skin slowly and happily from the beginning to the end ¡
In spring, we saw graves in the field, buried in the soil were familiar or unfamiliar folks, even one of our closest relatives.
Compared with those who disappeared in the great earthquake, how lucky are these people who rest in peace under the fresh soil!
Because they left in front of their relatives. Before leaving, there were shouts, tears, and kisses to comfort their souls.
Bamboo poles are inserted on the head of the grave, and white paper streamers hanging in winter flutter on the bamboo poles. They are very new, and their zigzag cut edges make them look elegant when they swing back and forth in the wind.
Farther away, closer to the forest, the white snake clothes hang on the bare thorns.
It was dry and stiff, the shape of a snake's body before it grew up. The place where the belly is cracked due to excessive friction on stones or tree trunks.
A gust of wind blows gently, and the snake clothes flutter, completely forgetting all the days that have passed away Soon, small red flowers will bloom among the thorns, and clusters of fine orange fruits will grow.
And the guy who has been reborn again has already left the narrow cave and the thin grass, and started his world-wide exploration of mysteries.
This is unavoidably palpitating.
A vague fear, coldly, spread from our heels to our brains.
But even that doesn't stop us from hiding in our caves¡ªat home, at school, in our father's or mother's arms.
What's more, in the summer when I was thirteen, something happened that made me feel more unbearable pain than molt.
The ubiquitous fear and danger, like invisible needles, as many as air, pierced into the marrow of my whole body delicately and accurately from all directions.
And I, screaming, enduring, jumping barefoot, running around the world, searching, until I returned to the cave
Until the cave opens
The sun and temperature made the soil moist and soft, and my heart, comforted by a mysterious force, calmed down and became as warm as an old man.
I still long for many, many things.
I want to love others and have them love me as well.
I am longing for the festivals brought to children by the rotation of the four seasons, longing to run, longing to let go of my throat and shout
I crave sleep¡ªas long as I fall asleep, I kick my legs itchy, and occasionally fly among the stars, over mountain tops, and over the sea.
Looking back, some events in your life, the more they are about to happen, the more at a loss you will be, in a trance, just like in a daydream