Qixi Festival · Nurturing | Fairy tales are wings for the soul
The mundane trivialities easily make us forget romance. Fairy tales are wings for the soul, a different escape for the heart.
On a morning shrouded in mist, everything seemed locked within a silent gray haze. This inevitably reminded me of Oliver's growth in 'Oliver Twist' – fluctuating between sorrow and joy, ultimately breaking free from his melancholy. Of course, the fog and Oliver had nothing to do with each other; it was merely a connection I formed with it, a world I longed to worship.
I wished I had eyes that could pierce through everything, at least not blocked by this mist. At that moment, little Tao was half-lying on my lap, sketching a road on the glass. The trees in the distance looked like a lush forest flanking the road, hinting at a touch of 'Green Fairy's Land'. Tao was diligently painting on the glass. Our fingers habitually intertwined, and soon a fluffy plant illustration appeared on the glass. I asked, 'What is this?' Tao said, 'It's a tree, isn't it? You said the outside was a forest, right?' I replied, 'It's not a tree; it's just a pile of glistening weeds.' Tao chuckled, 'Then draw me a tree!' So, I yielded to his request, and planted a tree in the midst of these dense weeds. As I painted, I talked, 'See, the trunk is straight upwards, you can make it as tall as you like, magnifying its form. The branches should be more abundant, looking like they possess boundless vitality.'
However, people should live like weeds, enduring storms and snow, always seeking the sunlight. I recalled the saying, 'Wildfire cannot extinguish spring breezes; they will always regenerate.' I spoke about its tenacious spirit, and also saw the life force and perseverance of grass. Thus, we can always see the sun.
Tao didn't say much, just dedicating more energy to painting together with me.
Our fingers repeatedly encountered the misty glass. This fog might have formed through human carbon dioxide exhalation, but interestingly, it became our cost-free painting tool. It also reflected our friendship growing stronger. It was he who taught me that fairy tales are a different escape for the heart. We worked hard to see the other scenery beneath the fog.
Our fingers once again encountered the misty glass.
The mundane trivialities easily make us forget romance.
