It was a cloudy day. An old man, who was fishing at the bank of the river, sat on the grass peacefully holding a fishing rod. There was no wind, a lonesome world. There was a beautiful forest, the sort of beauty you could die in: white clouds formed the background; adorning green leaves with colorful flowers could be seen in the foreground. The man was motionless. No birds, no insects, even no other beings. The lake in the middle of the forest was completely transparent. Although tranquil, there were no fish, as if they were afraid of the murderous atmosphere. The fishhook was not a hook but a needle. The needle head flashed so bright because the sunshine came through the clouds. The man seemed not to know everything, or did he, but he didn’t care about that. His silver white hair was neat and his eyes were closed. Could he feel the fishing rod? Clip-clop, clip-clop… The clatter of a horse’s hoofs from far away broke the peace. The horse was getting closer but the man was still there without any response, as if it wasn’t his business even if the sky fell down. His eyes remained closed. The horse stopped behind him. A young girl in vivid green was sitting on the horse like a female celestial from wonderland! “Father, how long you will be sitting here?” The sound reverberated over the forest; even the lake ripped as a result. No response.“I am talking to you, Father!”“A willing victim lets himself get caught.” His old voice echoes the whole space.“I can’t understand you! Can a fish be caught by a needle?”“Yes, if the fish wants.”“Is there such fish in the world?”“Yes, they are coming. The time they arrive is the time I will go.”“Leave here? Father! Please! Please don’t leave me here!”“This is fate!”“No! I don’t follow fate!”“You have to. Leave here now! This is the last time I will see you!”Teardrops were falling down from the girl’s face. She bowed after her father, knocked her head three times. Then, got on the horse and disappeared. A deep and dead silence returned.Three days later, a child, playing at the bank of the lake, discovered a snowman with a fishing rod sitting there after a heavy snow. The snowman was composed. At the same time, the child noted a frozen fish below the fish line on the surface of the icy lake.
---------------------------Waves would crash on the stone and form a spray of water...I don't wanna be a stone but a grain of sand...-------------------------------------- 我们内心没说出的话，在心底发酵，酿成陈年的酒；那淡悠悠的酒香，互相渗透着我们花季的心灵；我们那颗同样的平常的心，不断吸取着这酒的精华，塑造着唯一的自我…… 朋友，试试寻找你自己的这颗平常心吧，什么时候，你都需要他……
