"Come a little closer..." The photographer's lazy voice came from under the black cloth behind the camera.
Bill and Wordsworth, who were standing a little far away from Tina, moved closer to the girl in the middle.
"Okay, look at the camera!" Bill stared at the camera. The spotlight and the sunlight outside the door made the light in front of him a bit dazzling, and Bill needed some effort to ensure that he did not frown.
The disposable flash clicked, as if creating a small lightning bolt, which made people tremble unconsciously.
"Okay." The photographer asked and straightened up from under the black cloth.
Tina turned to Wordsworth and smiled.
After taking the photo, Bill sat alone in the photo studio, while Tina and Wordsworth whispered something in the distance.
Although Bill looks careless, he is actually a child with a delicate mind.
He knew that some strange things had happened in Xiacheng District recently. Many children had received tempting invitations in their dreams, and many children had gone on appointments...
He knew that Wordsworth and Tina should have accepted that invitation as well.
In fact, Bill also saw the handsome young man standing outside the amusement park in his dream.
However, Bill, who has experienced major blows such as his father's death, is more mature than other children.
He was wary of such invitations. Of course, he was not stupid enough to report to the correctional officer. He just ignored the repeated invitations and tried his best to act like an insensitive child.
He knew, however, that Wordsworth and Tina were often in and out of that place in ways unknown to him.
Kids who go there get a little weird. Their eyes will become furtive, it will become difficult to concentrate, and their faces will not look good.
Ever since he read Wordsworth's works on the park bench and asked the old man to use his father's name, Bill became Wordsworth's good friend. The two boys with different personalities seemed like puzzle pieces with completely different shapes but that fit perfectly. Their friendship takes little effort to grow and thrive.
Bill also met Tina through Wordsworth. However, he didn't pay much attention to this tall and beautiful girl.
Although he knew that the two of them were involved in something rather troublesome, Bill knew that he couldn't do anything to help, so he had no choice but to continue to act stupid and pretend not to know anything.
However, Wordsworth is still somewhat different from other children.
After some time, Bill found that his good friend often looked into the distance and meditated for no reason, and repeatedly showed an expression that was too old-fashioned. Bill knew that Wordsworth was having something on his mind.
At this time, the two of them were sitting on the same park bench. The sun was setting behind them. In front of them, all objects, including them, were drawn into long shadows. If you just look at the shadows on the ground, you might think that you have mistakenly entered a fairy tale kingdom where everything is elongated.
Bill knew that Wordsworth was the kind of person who would not take the initiative to talk about something on his mind, so he naturally asked: "What's the matter? Something on his mind?"
Wordsworth turned and looked at Bill. Bill felt that this partner, who had always had clear eyes, suddenly felt a deep fatigue in the eyes, like a lamp about to burn out of oil. Wordsworth, who rarely sighed in the past, sighed again: "Next, I have to make a very important decision."
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me – I should never hesitate on something like this.
"But this time I really don't know how to choose."
Bill could inexplicably feel that Wordsworth's vague words were referring to whether to leave the "happy place" that the children kept secret.
“In the end, should I continue to enjoy simple happiness and spend my life like this?
"Still..." He blinked. In Bill's eyes, Wordsworth was painted red by the sunset. He was hunched over and very different from before. "Or should I stay away from those comforts and happiness and do what I wanted to do before?"
"It seems like you haven't written a story for a long time." Bill suddenly said without making a decision for Wordsworth, "How long has it been?"
Wordsworth shook his head painfully, as if he was blaming himself, as if he was full of contradictions: "Two months?... Three months, right?"
"Not a word?" After the story about the old man fighting the dragon, Bill also read four things written by Wordsworth - although he had no knowledge, he felt that if Wordsworth continued to write like this, I will definitely become a great person in the future.
"Not a word." Wordsworth ran his fingers through his hair.
"Why? Don't want to write?"
"No, I want to write." The young man's eyes looked forward - there were passers-by in coats passing by, stepping on them and the shadows of street lamps one by one, "But strangely, I lost the urge to pick up that pen. . I have been restless all day, and my heart is filled with the urge to... go somewhere to play..."
"I want to write, but something seems to be controlling me."
Bill remembered how his father had asked him. No wonder he felt that what was happening now was a little familiar. He asked, "Can you tell the difference? Is it the one who wants to write about you who has the deepest thoughts, or the one who wants to go somewhere?" Is this a place where you really want to play?”
"I have no idea."
"You don't know..." Bill murmured, "I can't tell clearly, but I remember my dad told me something.
"That was when he and I were out fishing. He told me -
"Always choose the harder path."
"Choose the harder way?" Wordsworth turned his head in confusion.
Bill nodded and continued: "He said this when he caught a mackerel.
"He said that falling for the bait too easily is due to desire; and the inexplicable desire to make more difficult choices is the calling of the heart."
Taking the bait too easily is due to desire; but wanting to make a more difficult choice for no reason is the calling of the heart.
Wordsworth's knitted brows opened slightly.
Bill turned his face: "Dad said that the fish that bit the hook were defeated by desire, and those fish that saw the bait and swam deeper and colder water all responded to the call.
"Tell me, should I bite the hook easily, or should I grit my teeth and swim in the cold water?
"Do you want to be canned fish?"
Wordsworth's brows were completely untied. He was speechless for a while, blinking and looking at his friend beside him.
The street lights turned on, and the sun sank behind the green mountains.
He still looked at Bill like this.
"I see."
Bill felt that some ghost that had been lingering on Wordsworth suddenly evaporated. His eyes seemed to be looking through a lot of fog, and he could see the light of the past in the depths. It is also like a fish in the sea. It no longer looks up at the tempting bait, but chooses to lower its head and stare at the deeper and colder sea bottom...
. The fastest website for updating the mobile version of Apex:
