往事如煙

類別: 室內(nèi)設(shè)計(jì) | 公共及文化空間

設(shè)計(jì)師/ 設(shè)計(jì)團(tuán)隊(duì)：深圳市大羽營(yíng)造空間設(shè)計(jì)有限公司

曾經(jīng)的我們，生活幸福、平淡、樂呵兒。悠長(zhǎng)的巷子，平靜的院落，藍(lán)色天空下的屋沿。屋沿上停著或掠過的鴿子，那是曾經(jīng)的我們。就連冬日的早晨也飄著迷離的清霧，無論城市和鄉(xiāng)村，詩(shī)意仿佛凝固。大人們、孩子們都做著各自屬于自己的手工。曾經(jīng)的我們都知道，雞犬相聞；都知道深巷春雨，清早賣花。我們無論在里弄巷口，還是在大院家中，都能看到各式各樣的手工藝，衣食住行，全算上,……都能看到。我們?cè)?jīng)更知道什么是真情、什么是珍惜、什么是珍重，曾經(jīng)的我們相見離別，都會(huì)流露出真誠(chéng)的高興與憂傷。但這一切現(xiàn)在都成了往事，如煙般的往事。 現(xiàn)在的我們，到處是在“線上”忙碌工作和生活的人，吃喝玩樂都如最后瘋狂般的歇斯底里，大咖加大趴的揮霍著一切，似乎沒有人愿意回到“線下”，但卻又不停的呼吁著回到“線下”的事兒。擁擠的交通、相互麻木的鄰居、脆弱的同事關(guān)系、轉(zhuǎn)基因、食品添加劑、霧霾和在霧霾里生活著的戴著各種口罩的人們，消失的曾經(jīng)的城市輪廓線、消失的城市上空的藍(lán)色天空，天空中飛著的鳥越來越少，如鳥兒般的飛機(jī)卻越來越多，等等，等等……這一切讓我們已感覺不到我們的往事，更不可能找回我們的往事，世事難料、世事如此，往事如灰，往事如煙。

We've been lived a happy, unromantic but carefree life.What are left in our mind are extended lane, ndisturbed courtyard and the eaves under the blue sky. Even in the bitter cold winter, the misted morning, was brought to a scroll of poetry. Parents and children made their own handicrafts. We're aroused of harmonious life of neighborhood, when crowing and barking were heard,deep lane in the spring drizzle seen, and daybreak haggler of flowers nearby. Whether in the lane, or in the courtyard, could we see varied handiworks including all aspects of our life; more assured was our unpretending emotion, treasure of love as well as meeting and parting, all in delightedness and sorrow of pure heart. Pitifully, these are fading past, living only in sigh. Today, we're all “online”, busy in life and work.None of us is not hysterical about physical enjoyments for fear of doom, and extravagancy of what are in our possession, as if nobody is willing to be “offline”when he is tired of this kind of life. Traffic jam, strange neighbors, fragile colleagues, GMO, food additives,thick haze and those fellows wearing a great variety of respirators in the fog, the disappeared city skyline,blue sky overhead, less heard of bird chirping, more aircrafts roaring over our head, just to name a few,all of these prevent us from remembering what are precious in our memory, let alone thinking of them. Life a transient, impermanent and obvious journey, so is our fading past.