You are a tall and dignified woman. You burn a lot of secret pieces of paper in your backyard. These receipts represent the boring and mediocre life of your department-transforming "evidence" through your graffiti, no matter what the effect is, like spilling liquid fuel, it’s like rest, stupid hole, Absurd and pathetic residue and then light a match to watch the dazzling black smoke billow and rise, and the color is like ink. There is no point in it. Because there is still a glimmer of light in your mind, you can put it out as if flickering candlelight is hidden in the distant darkness. There is a tunnel and a tower. It is an abnormal terrain. You reach out and touch Saul Evans’ face. Too much burden. You lean against the wall and watch the flame rise and fade. It is not enough. There is more in the room-the coffee table next to the sofa, the kitchen, the dining table and the bedroom mantelpiece. You are soaked as if you were drowning.
Look down the slope of the backyard, the lights are on in the window, and there is a man, a woman, a boy and a girl on the sofa. They sit quietly from the ground and watch whether they talk or not. They just watch, and they never want to look in your direction. The rain is getting denser and denser, and the burning paper is making a sizzling sound.
What if you go back to the house and find that the mobile phone is not a mobile phone? What if containment is a joke? You can’t even stop yourself. What if you take your mobile phone back and test it again, but everything is still normal? What if you take your mobile phone home and find out that it’s not normal, and then you report it to Lori, who laughs and says you’re crazy-or you tell Severance and the mobile phone doesn’t move? You have a bad reputation, director. Your competent authority is responsible for investigating the core mystery. What if you don’t cross the border or escort biologists across the border, and cancer will engulf you?
You turn up the volume of your cigar and red wine and play a record you didn’t know when you bought it. You hope that all this may drive away the darkness and the lingering thoughts in your mind-as if the emperor is watching you coldly and holding your eyes so that you can’t move like a mediocre butterfly nailed to a collector’s display box.
The storm is getting stronger and stronger. You throw cigars and stand still and think about the invisible boundary and all kinds of rest hypotheses, which seem to constitute some kind of spiritual belief … You drink that glass of red wine and then take a whole bottle. You still don’t feel enough. You still don’t want to go back to the roof to …
"tell me something I don’t know! Tell me something I don’t fucking know! " You yell at the darkness, throw the cup into the night, and then unconsciously kneel down in the rain, thunder and mud. You don’t know whether this represents resistance, pain or spontaneous reaction. You really don’t know, just as you don’t know whether the mobile phone in the room really moves or whether it really has life.
The burning notes were soaked in water and wet and stuck together, overflowing from the edge of the barbecue grill and falling, and the last few sparks floated out one by one.
So you finally got up. In the rain, you got up from the mud and went back to the house. Suddenly everything became very cold and quiet. The answer was no, because even if you begged others, they wouldn’t come to save you, especially when you begged others. As usual, you can rely on yourself. You must keep moving forward until you can’t move forward.
You must stick to your destination. You can stick to it in the end.
You stop studying scientific seances, you stop studying lighthouses, you leave the rest of your notes in the office, and you know very well that they are huge, compared with the number burned when your family vented in vain.
"Will someone try to burn down the house?" On the same night, you asked the real estate agent that you went to have a few cocktails and then fell asleep. Did you wake up in the middle of the night and turn over the bed endlessly?
The lights are dim, the eyes blink silently, accompanied by a slight buzz. Influenced by the alternating flashing lights in the bowling alley, the stars on the ceiling are flickering. Someone plays melancholy western country songs on the jukebox, but it seems as if it comes from far away. Sometimes I have to go with the flow.
"Oh, of course," said the real estate agent. "She warmed up." He sometimes blurted out quips. "Usually, she deliberately set fire to get insurance compensation. Sometimes, when her ex-husband saw his ex-wife and new boyfriend move in, he tried to burn down the house, but you might not think that there was no reason at all. I know a guy who suddenly had the urge to set fire one day, and then he cried and didn’t know what he was doing, but I always felt that there must be a reason, either he didn’t want to admit it to himself or he didn’t know it."
Anger tries to break through your limitations, and it shows up in the form of doubt. You have been doubting one thing for some time.
"You are not a real estate agent." You said to the woman, "You are not a real estate agent at all." She was a hint in her notes that she was running around with her mobile phone.
You need some air, so you go outside. A broken street lamp in the stone parking lot gives off dim light. You can still hear the loud music street lamp illuminating you and the hippo in the mini golf course. Its clumsy and huge body casts a wide oval shadow. Hippo’s eyes are stained glass and its mouth is unfathomable. Even if Yue Xing lets you play, you won’t put your hand into this mouth.
Veterans came out.
"You’re right, she’s not a real estate agent," he told you. "She’s been fired for over a year."
"No," you said, "I’m not a long-distance truck driver."
Unfortunately, he asks if you want to go in and dance. No, you don’t want to dance, but if he leans against the hippo and chats with you, it’s no problem. There is no need to have a special topic and talk about everyday things that you don’t quite understand.
The plant is still in the storage room, and Viterbi mouse remains in the attic. A few days before the twelfth exploration team leaves, the mobile phone appears on your desk as if it is a secret memorial. You don’t know which is more worrying, it is beside you or out of sight.
27 lighthouse keeper
When Saul woke up, the bottom of the lighthouse was covered with sand, and Henry lay limply beside him. It was still night, and the sky was full of dark blue and almost black, but it was full of stars. He knew that he must be dying, and there were hundreds of cracks all over his body, but he didn’t feel the pain. Instead, there was a kind of agitation that increased a hundred times, and the injury caused by the falling of something behind did not bring him pain. He must have several fractures, but he didn’t suffer from it. Is he in shock?
However, he still felt the sense of light rising constantly. In the night, millions of shining eyes stared at the square, and the waves rolled slightly, which was comforting. He turned to the sea and vaguely saw the shadow of the night heron. Their heads were wearing unique crowns, and they were pecking, twisting and struggling silver fish in the wet sand.
Sol hummed, but he would fall without stumbling and dizzy, and he was full of frightening strength. Even his shoulders felt good. He might not be injured, or he might be seriously injured and he was on the verge of death. His thoughts in his mind turned into words, and his sad language emerged. He tried to restrain himself because he seemed to release in vain, which was tantamount to giving in. He was running out of time.
He looked up at the lighthouse and imagined the falling scene again. When he fell to the ground, something saved him. He was not himself-he fell and transformed into a gentle settlement, as if falling cocoons and kissing the beach, as if he had fallen into a preset position.
Saul looked at Henry. Even in the dim darkness, he could see that Henry was still alive. His cold eyes were fixed on Saul’s body like the stars overhead. This gaze seemed to come from thousands of years ago, crossing a distant and insurmountable distance, which was kind and deadly, like a ragged assassin, like fallen angels being erased by time.
Sol didn’t want to bear this gaze, so he walked a little away from Henry and came to a place near the sea. Charlie was fishing in the sea at night. At this moment, he wanted to keep Charlie company, but he also wanted to drive him far away. Things attached to him entangled Charlie.
He came to the row of rocks that Gloria likes to explore, sat quietly by the tidal pit and tried to find himself.
He seemed to see the back of a giant beast rising and falling on the sea surface, as if from time to time, and then diving into the deep sea. At this moment, the sea water has almost risen to his feet, accompanied by the smell of oil and chemicals. He saw that the beach was covered with plastic, garbage and greasy metal fragments, as well as the wreckage of the ship covered with kelp and barnacles, which had never reached the coast here before.
Fang Qunxing seemed to move at an amazing speed through the moonless sky. He heard them pass by with sharp screams-faster and faster until the darkness broke into strips of light.
Henry appeared beside him like a clumsy shadow, but Saul was not afraid of Henry.
"Am I dead?" He asked Henry
Henry said nothing.
Later he said, "You’re really not Henry anymore, are you?"
No answer
"Who are you?"
Henry looked at Saul and looked away.
Charlie is fishing on the sea by boat at night, away from everything that is happening here. He feels that there is a force in his body pushing out hard, and it is getting stronger and stronger, like some living thing.
"Can I see Charlie again?"
Henry turned away from walking along the beach, and staggered without taking a few steps. He collapsed in the sand and climbed forward for a few feet, then stopped moving. The hands of sinners will bring joy, because sin in the shadow cannot be forgiven by the seeds of death.
He feels that something is about to set off a towering wave, and he feels weak and seems to have invincible strength. Is that it? Is this the way for the emperor to pick you up?
He doesn’t want to leave this world, but he knows that he is leaving or that the world is leaving him.
Sol finally got into the pickup truck and felt terrible. He couldn’t control what would happen next. He didn’t have the ability. He didn’t want the coast and lighthouse to happen. He didn’t want it to happen, but he also knew that he decided to fly a comet. He seemed to see something coming out of a terrible door, so he drove along-galloping wildly along the bumpy road in an attempt to escape from himself, but it was impossible. He crossed the sleeping village and passed one dirt road after another. Fortunately, Charlie Sea was not here. His heart is pounding, and new shadows are born in the shadows. Words are eager to pour out of his mouth, which is as difficult to understand as passwords. He feels as if he is stared at by something, and his brain is squeezed from all sides, as if someone has forced information on him.
Finally, he came to the most remote area of the forgotten coast, France, and then drove on-the pine forest was inhabited, and he stopped and stumbled out, surrounded by black trees and owls, and a fox stopped to stare at him, fearing that the stars were still spinning and dancing.
In the dark, he stumbled against palm trees and tough shrubs, and struggled through the low ground vegetation. Occasionally, he stepped into the dark water. He smelled the pungent smell of fox urine, and there seemed to be animals watching him vaguely. I don’t know how many he tried to keep his balance and stay awake. However, his mind was full of images of understanding.
A flowering plant will never die
A group of white rabbits jumped and disappeared from the middle section.
A woman reached out and touched the starfish in the tidal pit.
Green dust oozing from a corpse drifted away with the wind.
The top of Henry lighthouse twitched and twisted to receive signals from far away.
A man in camouflage uniform was forgotten and stumbled along the coast. All his comrades were dead.
A light shone on him from Fang, which made him unable to move. He had completed an important transformation.
Wet dead leaves touch bonfire, burning smell, dog barking in the distance, soil in the mouth, pine branches staggered overhead.
Strange city ruins appeared in his mind, accompanied by a glimmer of hope of rescue. The emperor said that this was a good emperor saying "Don’t resist". However, he was bent on resisting and held on to Charlie. Gloria was so proud of his father’s sermon that he seemed to be occupied by greater grandeur.
Finally, in the wilderness, Saul could never move forward. He knew that his end was over. He cried and fell down and nailed him to the ground. It was both an unusual feeling and seemed very familiar. It seemed to be a trivial matter and a thorn after a hundred times. However, it was as big as the whole world. Even if I controlled him, I would never understand his last thought. Maybe I could endure and resist concessions, but I didn’t give up. After that, his thoughts would never belong to me. In the face of the sea, Saul couldn’t say a name and three words popped out of him. However, he felt so powerful.
Later, he woke up. In the winter morning, he walked along the path to the lighthouse. The cold wind blew into the big collar. Last night, there was a rainstorm. The ocean was on his left. Through Sita Suosuo, the petrel swayed with the wind. Michael saw the gray waves dim and the blue sky rolled. After the wind and rain, driftwood, bottles and faded buoys were washed to the coast. There was also a dead hammerhead shark wrapped in seaweed, but there was not much damage here and in the village.
At his feet are brambles, dense gray thistles. In spring and summer, they will produce pink flowers. On the right is a dark pond. Wild ducks come in a low voice. Black mountain birds stop and bend the slender branches. When he passes by, they suddenly start up and then chirp together. The pungent smell of fresh seawater has a hint of flame, as if from nearby houses or smoldering bonfires.
Ghost bird
Crawlers have written behind them, and the weather behind them is warm. This is a tunnel, a forest, and a place they pass by.
Along the way, the ghost bird and Grace didn’t talk much. They straddled such a world, so there was nothing to say. The ghost bird said that other things had been changed besides the climate. They should go to the border to see what caused this change. She knew that Grace didn’t always regard her as a human being, but there was something about her that made Grace willing to believe what she said. The smell of golden pine pollen was strong and pungent, and wrens chased each other in the bushes of Oriole.