第一次逛到这个版 把前天写的送给我在LEICESTER的两个朋友的 诗不像诗 文章不像文章的东西给大家分享 我们的行为很像死小孩 但是我们都已经二十五六岁了 (请版友不要嘘我们啊 XD) 从STIRLING到LEICESTER就要七个小时 还要转三 四次车 或许这是我们最後一次这样淘气了 但是我很高兴 在我离开LEICESTER前有这样一个不一样的夜晚 saturday night, we were used to go out and knocked others' door. we placed glasses in front of others' houses and ran away; or made random phone calls talking nonsense till others hang up; or rang the door bells and then made funny noises on the empty road. we were young and we thought that's the way how the universe works. the night is cold but our hearts r warm cos we know that we r right; right for our way of living, right for never compromising the reality. ever and always, always and ever. we r used to smoke in the corner of the street waiting or not waiting for somebody, with a cigarette and a cup of coffee perhaps beer, we can talk all night long. in front of bus stops, bars, pubs or who knows someone's doorsteps. life was wasy and stressless when we were younger. we r still young but the good days r gone; gone to somewhere only in our memories, buried deep in the bottom of our hearts, which no one even ourselves can reach, for being afraid of them fading away and becoming rusty. we can never understand what's going on, the world is not which is used to be. everyone is in a hurry, dogs r barking, cars r shouting and we r wondering; we r still young but the world is not. and the day comes we r no more young, suddenly, we r in big companies, stores or god knows somewhere else; calculating numbers, smiling to customers and hoping the days end quickly. suddenly, in stead of going out, we stay home and watch talk show like all grown-ups do, and the saturday night streets without us seem to be lonely. sometimes, we r wondering if we choose the right way to meet others' expectations; or even worse, to meet our own epectations which we try hard to deny. sometimes, we will recall those days which nobody can take away, the days with saturday night streets that make us both happy and sad. u said u will continue doing this even if u r sixty, i am happy of hearing this, for it's a vow to me; a vow of staying young, a vow of not being one of them. which is as sacred as a wedding, as serious as a church. still, i can't help myself thinking how much courage that u take to make such a vow; still, i can't help myself wondering if people only cherishing things when they lost them or r afraid of losing them or perhaps r afraid of losing themselves. still, i will go with u even if u r sixty (i will be sixty-five), at saturday night years and years later only if we remember; a night that we grow younger just like what we r now, and the streets feels no more lonely and sorrow, cos it's a miracle being waited for forty years. i can imagine how bright the sky will be, how shining the stars will be, and again we three r on the streets playing silly games, like everything is still the same, like the forty-years period is just a dream. at the moment we will realise how much we lose and how much we gain, for the period to us is just like a blink but also eternity, and the time overlaps and we r sixty now and twenty after sixty years; we r more matutre but also more childish, for we r still the same but also different, the three old men laughing loudly on the future saturday night streets, a beautiful and touching scene which belongs to all of three, on the deserted streets, at saturday night. saturday night, we were used to go out and knocked others' door. we placed glasses in front of others' houses and ran away; or made random phone calls talking nonsense till others hang up; or rang the door bells and then made funny noises on the empty road. a beautiful but a little bit sad story written by u and me, an ordinary but valuable memory perhaps would never be seen. -- Angels have no thought of ever returning you would they be angry if i thought of joining you ? --

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