[W] ash in the afternoon, quiet time, the 5:30, it was a dark moment.In autumn, large tracts of ash gathered from over the horizon, little by little filled my sight, village, tree, house neat and orderly, as the town faces blurred together like a dream.    This time, I quietly walk into town a sense of where the body is not.House between the river and the road, scattered, it is the town’s oldest richest Ming and Qing style of the old house.I’m so old exudes a musty old house and spent a very short time.I repeatedly look at its original value, the identity of closeness to those who feel its beauty, however, I can not find pleasure from it exists, it is a heavy ash, is an alienated pain, that thick pillars, tall roof like vines wrapped around the tree as tightly intertwined Yan Jiao, to demolish a house is impossible, indeed affect the whole body.It’s dark and mottled facade, with its very coordinated with the surrounding landscape in the dark with this bleak autumn in the territory.    Within the gray walls, plane trees have leaves floating scattered, it carries the story of how much I do not know, it is hard to stand silent while this.Pale river, and the coming and going of loneliness wall.Wall are covered with ivy, the old story left in the wall, of a torn fence, lonely wind shaking.Wall camphor, like weather-beaten old man, waited at the edge of the story.Birds on branches, seems to have got used to this loneliness, the story passed through the wall of the years, has no trace, it seems that only the quiet stream flowing around the story.    I very much like the color of the houses atop the gray tile, from afar very eye-catching, do not know they went into their years of experience, it is the countless dark clouds brewing out color.Qinghei, gray tile, or nothing, but it is definitely a dignified, absolutely deep, also I can not describe with bald pen.People’s mood will affect player no reason to what he observed, although this is not necessarily true colors in the world, but it is my whole world.    I like it with gray, has a sense of sedimentation of old house.They silence to retain their position, standing safely on the ground between the day and the vast.Micro-tip curved eaves, like the revelation that the gray dust of years in one kind of time.    Ash, which is a color I again felt in the town, in the autumn, the gray know the gift of giving and quiet.Another gray color other than that, I have a collection of color also has been looking for.It’s a me, insurmountable distance.So I can look up to such a gray, looked up high can look, but do not have to lower my head in front of them.    [Yellow] grass hay yellow, this may be hard to find a book on the art of color, in fact, is also a lot of people have been keeping me or they ignore colors.    Into town, this century-old town.Leaving only a corner of the old city walls, I stand there, looking far, that time of the heart, can be very quiet, you can be at ease.My eyes wander, discover a pack of straw in the fields woman, so very appropriate color.    It was a woman on the older, fifty years old, it can not be beautiful, but definitely not ugly.It is a healthy image of strong women, is a simple, calm village women.    She should be home around town, perhaps somewhere in town.My time here life is very short, short people and things here can not remember, for unrelated people, I often do not pay attention nor to care about.Maybe she’s home at the rows of dilapidated house one roof, or, she looked up and could see their home, as there may be collection of all of her life bit by bit.    At this time, the harvest is not the time, I can clearly see where she was busy.As she equally to farmers now the town is running out, she packed straw in the field, and looked like a great serve their loved ones is so focused.Golden sun has the same color of dry straw, dry fields lying in disorder, had seen such a hurry when the harvest.She would gather straw eleven with strong and palms, the whole into a pile, tied into bundles, on the ridge.On the ridge, stood in twos and threes good bundled straw, such as babies usually lie with her eyes gentle flowing look, with a kind of motherhood, she is still constantly bent over to pick up pick in the fields.    I do not know her so intently picking up straw for what to do?When the firewood back to bed or mat?Also whether the shop sty?Or for burning ash as fertilizer?In any case, these straw in her eyes must be useful.She must need them.    Soon the time, she put those bundles of straw on the clip back in, effortlessly carrying them home in the twilight.That baby as normal straw nestled on her back, her feet still strong and light, I watched her step by step disappear in the wind.Her back farther and farther increasingly blurred, I turned to look at that piece of dark green cedar opposite, the occasional flash of that piece of maple leaves, in my eyes looked like flames generally warm.    [Black] Xu Jiumei see crows flying, and when young, often can not see it in high hovering in the air.At that time, there are often a lot of crows took off, also cried quack, that sound is often heard when the quiet afternoon, listening to some fear, folks often understood as a call to this inauspicious.    I remember when it was late fall, my mother and I go through an old arch, darkening sky, flocks of crows from the rice fields plunging from our stand, like a black storm and landed not far from our open space, black black piece.    At that moment, my heart is full of fear, it is a very horrible invasion Pro, disrupt our quiet.Is unlucky, as folks say, I have a sense of panic.Mother worried sigh, and do not know what was going to happen.Her dark eyes thoughtfully.Her words hit like a heavy stone in my heart, I am a little panicked.    We could not help but stopped, and so these terrible plague go away automatically.On the front of that piece of land, full of crows, swarthy, it looks boggling array.They leisurely walked up and down for small-scale fly, sometimes emit croaking can break through the nerves, broke through the clouds, the sound is extremely sad sad, sad smell of desire.    I do not know whether they are attracted atmosphere of death where, or in what suggests to us, listen to people say, they are very fond of meat, war dead, we often see them.Group of crows came from nowhere, like a remote control to go to a feast to remember the dead.This atmosphere, so that my heart had a sense of suffocation.    A few days later, the mother’s words came true, two people in love, because of family opposition, in the mountains opposite, not far from the original space station crows, poison for Love.At the time seems to be crying shook the mountain.I looked in the distance, across the mountains, young mind also will be shocked.    That day, I saw a crow that flew over again, it alone flapping, circling northward away after a while.At the time I just fear and curiosity, to see this dreaded thing students want it to be why.At first, it’s coming implies what, it’s gone and clear, is not known.    Now think about it, this may be a coincidence, or that the world still can not explain a lot of things have been tied to the shuttle in the meantime.Today, very few have been able to see a crow, but the memories are still afraid of that scene a little, feeling a little.Some things, we inadvertently lost and never found, it is sad, such as crows, whether it is as the villagers say the supernatural, or we usually understand natural animals.I think it is only a creature, a way close to our lives, and we, in no perception, no longer see.