The temperature of words
Texts are like people.
Some people are as cold as ice, which makes people feel chilled at just one glance, so they put down the idea of striking up a conversation; some people are as passionate as fire, even from afar. Feeling the scalding heat wave, I couldn't help but stepped forward to chat; some people are as light as autumn chrysanthemums, as quiet as the bright moon, and all their dirty thoughts are diluted in silence; some people are as stable as a rock, as deep as a lake and sea, and some are as shallow as a lake. Only trembling and fleeing...
Text is about fate. No matter how beautiful the text is, if you don't catch your eye, you will yawn after reading it for three minutes. If the words that others disdain are in line with your own taste, you will forget to eat and sleep. As the saying goes, everyone has their own preference for radish and cabbage, so it’s hard to decide in one word. One's own taste and style determine the elegance and vulgarity of the texts involved.
But no matter what, text has warmth. Words without temperature are unprocessed brown rice, which cannot satisfy hunger, cannot be digested, and cannot be absorbed. It is even more useless than brown rice. Brown rice has been nurtured by the soil, but it is just a useless moan, a waste of pen and ink, as cold and terrifying as a zombie.
Where does the temperature of text come from? Come from the heart. From the blood. Come from awe, come from rigor. A person who does not have the love and reverence for words cannot write warm words or create something wonderful that makes people gasp in admiration.
There are too few people who are so obsessed with it, and there are not many people who can appreciate the warmth contained in words. Literature is always an awkward existence, a place of dreams, yet illusory and terrifying. A great person like Cao Xueqin did not exchange for beautiful clothes and delicious food because of the words that have been passed down through the ages. If the spirit is immortal, why should the body be afraid! But people today are obviously immune to mental heights, and beautiful words can only be used to make people feel sorry for themselves and masturbate in their old age!
But I still miss the warmth of words. The feeling of excitement is really more exciting than a bowl of beef noodles.
The temperature of words is the collision of heart and heart, the blending of blood and blood, the tranquility after worship, the rainbow after the wind and rain, It is a silent cry, a sonorous war drum, a moistening spring rain, a solemn white snow, and a tacit understanding and resonance that can only be understood but cannot be expressed.
And all of this requires the author to have a fiery heart, a pure heart, a secular heart, a philosophical heart, and a righteous heart. For an exquisite dish, raw materials, seasonings, and heat are all closely linked and indispensable.
I am always outside the palace, like a bad chef, sweating profusely, running around in a hurry, and what I serve is still a burnt plate. Horrible.
But hope is always there, the enthusiasm is small and long, and it always shows its head from time to time, scratching the itch in my heart. Shouldn't you write something to comfort your pale life?
So, I picked up the pen intermittently, like a naughty child, stopping and pulling at the flowers and plants on the roadside.
But I always know that words have warmth. Either don't write it, or express your sincerity.
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