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(come with the water
It is silent but drives straight
On the upper part of its raging peak
Where the sun shines
Life
is melting everything that actually exists
¡ª¡ªXi Li's "A Rose": "Come with the Water")
fifteen
Luo Zi has been painting for about two hours and feels a little tired. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and opened them for a long time. Joan was like a statue, in front of his eyes, motionless, which surprised him again.
Qiong's body shape is a rare classical type, with a long neck, no neck root, and almost an arc between the head and shoulders. The Chinese call it slipping shoulders, Qingwen's shoulders in "A Dream of Red Mansions". Her breasts are full and high, like a Western woman who has worn a tight waistcoat since she was a child. The waist is well cinched, giving the hips a nice round shape.
Her complexion is also very good, it is a soft moon white, which contrasts with the pure white linen, and makes his studio shaded by bamboo curtains have a moonlight-filled atmosphere.
Luo Zi hates modern thin women the most. Their square shoulders, thin chest, thin arms, thin legs and flat buttocks, as well as their cold skin with blue veins in the pale, are simply disgusting. Those so-called skinny beauties can only be seen when they are wrapped in fashionable clothes. Once all the packaging is removed, it will be horrible. The so-called small face and thin face can only be looked at after putting on makeup, otherwise, they are all ordinary.
He looked at Joan. Joan's forehead, upper lip and collarbone area were covered with fine beads of sweat.
She smiled at him and persisted.
"You can move now." He moved the easel and stood up, telling her with some guilt.
Luo Zi hasn't sketched for a long time, so he did it very detailed and carefully.
"Really? But I can't move anymore!"
Joan's legs had long been numb, and her waist and neck were also stiff from the long-term fixed posture.
"I'll help you!"
Luo Zi said that he wanted to hug her. As soon as his arm touched her body, its temperature and the manly breath he exhaled immediately stimulated her greatly, and she suddenly screamed out of embarrassment.
Her cry stimulated Roz, shattering the illusion of the lines he drew, and the long-term tranquility in the room. The blood rushed to the top of his head, and he jumped up, as fast as a roe deer on Daba Mountain.
He took a piece of linen, wrapped her around her without any explanation, picked her up and put her on the big table.
That is the drawing desk he used in the past, and now it is painted on the wall, and the desk is only used for occasional writing.
Sixteen
Until he became light again.
They are tender, intimate, and grateful for each other, and they put their arms around each other, resting on this wide table in the middle of this huge room.
Luo Zi half opened his eyes, looking at the empty roof. He used many logs to build a gable roof there, just like the shape of the house in his hometown. Spotlights are installed on the high place to illuminate the logs, which has the effect of sunlight coming in from the mountain in the afternoon: you can see the dust flying in the light-that is the years.
He thought again of his eternity.
There is no trace of time, his life is for the life of art. He still yearns for the Western Renaissance and has a soft spot for the spiritual connotation of that period. But today, the stage of life is getting bigger and bigger, and the former glory is no longer. An honest artist whose creation is above everything else, if he is still indulging in the dream paradise and only avoids reality, then he is either incompetent or selfish. When various problems arise, his only way out is to allow himself to exist in the problem, to see himself as part of the problem. He must live in "life" with all his sincerity and ability to live and observe himself who has left life, and express his "life" and his life with ink, lines, and colors. The ultimate meaning and value is eternity. Often, eternity appears in some rare moments, when he is standing in front of a sculpture in the Guangzhou Academy of Fine Arts late at night; on the empty seaside; when he is about to faint in the studio all day; in Dunhuang In the wind and sand and the sound of wind chimes in Mogao Grottoes; when his fingers touched her skin, listening to her childlike light and sweet breath He wanted to tell her that he was here for these moments, for the countless times that will appear Live in such an instant!
seventeen
Joan's sensibility has always been lagging behind. She always has a clear understanding and discovery of the event itself long after the event.
"That night, you must have thought I was a chicken?"
She talks to him about their encounter.
"At that time, in such a place, of course it would not be a woman from a good family" He smiled, "Actually, at that time I?Think about nothing, think about nothing. "
He stopped talking.
Joan, too, fell into a half-sleep amidst his silence.
"Let me read you a poem," he said.
"OK¡¡"
She heard him take a deep breath, his dry nostrils hiss¡ª
Head to head, shoulders warmed, lying down
? Peaceful breathing and bright eyes
What a noisy rainy season it was
look where we want
Like two flowers
Soggy thoughts
Occasionally flicker between the eyelashes
The sound of the door opening
The sound of opening windows
All out of fantasy
The sun is tickling, don't move
That place is changing rapidly
Or is it soft and serene?
We both lie down
Like two small light-colored flowers
? Like the evening of the past
My sudden discovery
Your hair is already golden
don't wake up
But where we think
Surprisingly quiet in the sound of rain
Two small, light-colored flowers
some time
The fragrance is very strong
eighteen
Incomparable tranquility.
She seemed to be awakened by the tranquility, opened her eyes, and wondered at the softness of the light in the room, she simply didn't know what kind of hour it would be. But there is no doubt that this is a sweet time. A woman enjoys her mature body at this moment, and for the first time in her life, she reaps the sweetness in her soul and body at the same time, and even in silence, she becomes radiant and radiant.
He moved slightly, leaning towards her. This woman is like a distant island in a dream, and now his boat has finally sailed towards her, landed on the shore, and climbed briskly on the big reef full of beautiful vortex-shaped holes hollowed out by the sea.
The tip of his tongue gently touched her eyes, and her eyelashes flickered.
"I know, this is Xili's poem."
The distant phone rings. The voice brought them back to the world they had forgotten, so both of them were a little shocked.
Because of the silence in the studio, the voice of the phone was very clear and steadfast.
Joan pushed him: "Go pick it up, don't delay!"
Roz will be back soon.
She asked with some unease: "Isn't a colleague looking for you?"
She wondered if her colleague would call Zhang Han because she couldn't find her
"No, it's a friend from Canada, Rolf Jensen, did I tell you? He is from Andersen's hometown. We are planning to hold an art exhibition for him in Shenzhen, and it is estimated that it will be completed by the end of next year."
"Well¡¡"
She fell asleep slowly, curled up her soft body like a cat, and fell asleep in the phantom of the afternoon flower. Its blood color, warm orange red, bloomed again. When she first fell asleep, she seemed to be listening to some mysterious noises in the dense forest. When one or two deer spread out their sleeping beds in the moonlight, she began to melt because of sleep. She saw herself completely melting and disappearing in the In the moonlight
(In the days to come, if she suffers from insomnia, she will imagine his embrace, the dense forest, and the moonlight.) (Remember the website URL: www.hlnovel.com - Didn't finish reading? Add this book to your favoritesI'm a member and bookmarked this chapterCopy the address of this book and recommend it to your friends for pointsChapter error? Click here to report
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