Laomendong is a relatively quiet corner. So you will find that there are not many tourists here, and most of the people who stay here for recreation are the indigenous people of this city.
I went to Laomendong alone on a relatively leisurely morning. The weather was very gloomy, but the late autumn season did not make me feel overly depressed, and there was a faint osmanthus fragrance floating in the air. Looking around, you can see the scenery of the south of the Yangtze River with small bridges and flowing water. Therefore, my interest is not totally absent.
In my impression, Laomendong is a place with twists and turns. I walked straight along a deep alley. I thought it was a dead end. I never wanted to turn around at the end of the alley, and it was another place. Antique street.
At the foot of the ancient city wall, there are a few green flowers and plants that accompany the stones, which adds a few charms. This stone, commonly known as “Taihu Stone”, is a famous ornamental stone in Chinese history and can be seen everywhere in the classical gardens in the south of the Yangtze River. The stone body is skinny, white as snow, and there are many natural round holes formed through the body. I am very curious about the appearance of the Taihu stone.
There was a faint singing from the coffee shop in the distance. They were all popular songs from the 1990s, which slowed my pace. When I passed by this coffee shop, it turned out that these songs were all from the old-fashioned tape recorder in front of me. It was placed on a round wooden table outside the house. It looked like an old antique and accidentally broke into the lives of modern people. No—suddenly I felt that my description was inappropriate—to be precise, it was us tourists who broke into their lives suddenly, and it was our dust and tackiness that disturbed them.
The sun gradually emerged from the thick clouds, and I was suddenly attracted by the bonsai in front of me-the tender green leaves showed its delicate posture in the sun, and the background was a blurred restaurant sign. The fusion of the bonsai with the background under the backlight presents a collision between the market and the poetry. In the end, its paintings touched on the most fundamental philosophical thinking: in the present moment of material desire, is poetry and life necessarily dualistic?
On the way back, I was still thinking about this question intermittently. But those quite classical-style buildings failed to make me resist the urge to press the shutter, just like this one before me.