Sunday, nothing to do, walking through the bustling streets, to a quiet alley, suddenly, a long-lost audio floating and came, instantly haunted my whole body, straight into the heart of the softest part.
I followed the sound to a small store and saw a boy tinkering with an old tape recorder, next to a pile of old tapes, playing Teresa Teng's "See the smoke rise again".
Oh, this is the sound of my heart, is my youthful era of the "sound of the wind", it through forty years of time, through my youth and sideburns, to this day, still fascinated me.
Not this song, I have not heard for a long time, but this audio equipment, playing this unique sound quality, in my mind, far better than the radio and television, all-in-one computers, multi-powered cell phones, and all the current hi-fi players, is so softly penetrate to the matrix of my feelings.
In that era when the sound of music was forbidden, it was also my youthful rebellious period. In that youthful, confused, melancholy and beautiful years, my favorite, is to listen to Hong Kong and Taiwan singers, and these songs are so rare. I have a capable brother-in-law, somehow to get a Hong Kong smuggled dual-card recorder, and some cassette tapes of Hong Kong and Taiwan singers, I will run to his home every day to listen to the melodies that flow from the spinning cassette, gave me the warmest spiritual comfort of my restless youth, so that I have the most beautiful reverie of the world.
I especially like Teresa Teng, feeling that she is a floating, sweet and tender, free and carefree, careless, singing while pampering the genie. Her voice is gentle and tender, the rhythm is soothing, slightly melancholy, poignant and lingering, the lyrics are also very beautiful, after listening to the infection into the bones, but also blowing face not cold, giving a soothing, a kind of excitement, a feeling of lingering.
At that time, listening to Teresa Teng, often encounter trouble. One night, I and the town's cultural station chief, together with the literary publications, tape recorders ringing in the side, the unique stereo sound attracted the public security police station police. At that time, there was a collection of Teresa Teng's song tapes everywhere. But that night I did not play Teresa Teng's songs, but the police still took a few Teresa Teng tapes from the drawer. Fortunately, this police officer is also a literature lover, see we are doing literary career, not to deep chase. Otherwise, for listening to a Teresa Teng and subject to disciplinary action, the years more to go.
The tape, then gradually faded out of sight, and I have long since passed the age of listening to songs and chasing stars to pass the time. The modern life is too fast-paced, there are too many entanglements around, too many emotional ups and downs, there are so many things that are in our possession, eliminated, after reading, then forget all about it.
However, the faster your feet are, the more you need to stop and wait for your soul to catch up. It's easy to get nostalgic when you're tired and busy, like the nostalgia and childishness that is increasingly present in the media. In my reminiscence of the old words, there is always the unique sound quality of the old VCRs, even those smuggled poor quality song tapes, the rustling sound in the playback, are an emotion. Each box, each reel, each song, all contain a thick mellow and thick touch and joy.
This feeling is very precious, although once indifferent, abandoned, but a slight touch, that is, a deep taste. Just like today, when you open the old VCR, you see the yellowing cassette, those memories of the past instantly emerge, and you miss the days of saving money to buy cassettes, and you miss the era of listening to songs with lyrics.
We need such a pure sound, ethereal as the sound of the sky, clean as the deep valley of the spring, even if not often, should be in some kind of opportunity, sincerely will find it back, set aside around, and then reverently open it, to start the most pure melody hidden in our hearts.
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