[Second editing of this post.]
When I just exmaine the title, Night and Day, of this post, I feel hit by the title of 夜与昼 by 柯云路。Memory flooded back. I did not read the book. Yet I remember how I was standing before the book closet examining the corrugated book cover that had long been yellow from years. “Li Xiangnan dozed off in the car that bumps along on the plains of North China.” I just recalled the sentence.
Way and I talked well into night walking around Zhongguangcun streets. At about some time past three in the morning, we decided to ride all the way to Tiananmen for the morning flag-raising. I was pretty weary from staying up all night and my right eye hurt and felt being closed on and off. Surely it had been the first time in my life seeing the highest level of flag-raising as a routine at the power heart of the country.
The spires of the buildings west of the square that had been well-designed reflected the sun and projected the gold light into our eyes. Now I remember in the elementary school several boy students would hurry to pull up the flag to the top to the catch up the music drawing to its end.
Staying up all night blurred the regular concept of night and day, which in the first place exhuasted your physical strength and then opened you to a window to examine the current life.
Got out of the place where I had been out of place. It’s a matter of time and life will push you for a choice if you don’t make one.
Dad texted me that the grandpa’s brother’s wife died. I felt barely stirred. It’s a long story.