"The Wayward Camel"（一）

The fall of 1971. I am not active nor passive left the town, leaving my motivation is not very clear. I was fourteen years old carpentry shop and go to that farm tools factory is not doing nothing. Still have my breathing space. Compile information for the public to learn more can receive administrative salary column. To play a few desks for the private office chairs can receive piece rates. "Wu also has the text" about thirty dollars per month income to the mother worked hard all the family expenses. When the Changjiang Shilu mechanical plant to the town farm job, and I said to the mother to go or not? Mother gentle eyes that looked at me, without any hesitation he said: "It was a county seat. You should go to than not to have a future ... ... you do not worry me, at home, and your brothers and sisters, I do not feel lonely. "mothers gave birth to eight children, heavy to sustain a poor family shack, before the children have never thought to care about the way out, this time to her resounding remarks, let me be moved. In which the phrase "It was a county, to better than not to have a future." Made me see in the dark like a lighted window. Although I have so much attachment to the ancient things, mothers have brothers and sisters, have friends and family, the girl has a dream Acacia. I can not use the eraser erase a non-excision of life cover calendar. However, in the town always had a terrible shadow of the so-called five black and the plight of the poor, so I can not change the environment all over again. Friends hole fishes said to me: "You called anchovies, (my pet name is called a dream instrument to instrument the word homonym, people call me anchovies) you fish, the fish live in the gutter is grow up, to the rivers and the sea have your way. "hole was small and I am dependent as partners, are the bitter water bubble-old child, had many a romantic fantasy, life is more tied together sympathetic roots. Family friends are saying, leaving a foregone conclusion. But still feel loss flawless. Like a dandelion, leaving the fate of the upper and lower churn the wind fluttering Huhu, take it to the required destination.
Fast forward more than thirty years later, I like a camel the horizon, heavy people who walk in the busy sea.
Some people may to me, introduced himself as the horizon of the camel, metaphorical fear of wrong. For the ships of the desert camel, which traces the life of the track is the vast sea of sand and sky lonely Liao. I live in a sea of high-rise hustle and bustle of the town stands in the downtown to open their own clinics, the rise of a neon, proudly by a car, open the door with visitors, the books close family sound. What to say and will not curse his own funeral to make the horizon than the camel. Not only figurative thousand miles away, and there is suspected of pretending to hang empty posturing.
I'm sad but I am often misunderstood by others not to give a positive answer.
I have three hundred sixty-five days a year, not two days out eating breakfast. E Jun laughed and ridiculed me, said: "You mean, not a booking breakfast room filled with friends chatting, so that life value it?" By E Jun meaning, then leisurely breakfast on the outside of the chat is being holy, that is, gentleman. Otherwise, it is not worth it. Sigh left in my life is just the dictionary has no such interpretation. Flanagan is my insanity of it. I have chosen to self-thrift, self-shabby, self-occlusion. Maybe I do not know E Jun breakfast cook at the same time what to do. I'm not good on what I was doing, he said. Five o'clock the morning, when my pen in the writing paper on the excitement when the walk, many times I burnt rice cooked until the nose to smell smoke pills only to discover his wife in his sleep suddenly Jing Han: "Do not write , rice bowl and burn it! "I knew, I'm sorry to get up for breakfast to school children, and had given to them Wu cents each to point to buy bread for breakfast side of the road. This is better than the cold last night I was a kid to eat sweet potatoes or rice is much left. My children have never said I was mean behind my father. Why do not you understand that my father cooked breakfasts. I thank the sons and daughters of understanding, let me uneasy guilt in the chest and head and throat did not feel stifled.
Breakfast restaurant I almost did not move the threshold, I understand people do not treat me like a miser, but at least one support is lonely. When I let the pen tip in the morning on the migration of white writing paper, I like a horizon of the camel, one step at a trek in the vast Hanhai Shawodi in.