一开始把目光落在这些并不美丽的风景上，还是出于写生没去成太行的无奈。但是一路画下来，感觉却渐渐从笔端走向了眼睛和心里。空茫的地平线，低调而规矩的杨树，柏树，杉树，柳树，还有稀稀拉拉的银杏，高压线，青灰的国道主路，满身黄土的辅路，高架桥上的城铁，道路两旁蓝色屋顶的临时板房，大片大片被挖掘机撕裂的平阔的原野和这原野上生长着的茂盛的建筑。这就是我们每天都会路过和看到的风景啊。我们看不到山峰，我们听不到河水，我们甚至忘记了秋天的味道，忘记了喜悦和逃避，忘记了背叛和热爱季节，在茫茫中国的北方，南方，西部，所有的我们都在一模一样的风景里生存，生活，等待故事，都站在一模一样的十字路口，张望遥远的村庄和同样遥远的城市。这是哪里？我们会是谁？明天会怎样？每当我开车行驶在高速公路上或者在城铁上向外看去，心中都会不断的浮现这样的疑问。我当然知道这个疑问的无结果，但我还是愿意经常想起。因为在和这样的风景这样的内心面对的时候，我触摸到了实实在在的各种形状的边缘，这感觉是去美丽陌生的太行所没有的。这感觉让我不孤独。

About cities and their borders

　　At that time, as I fixed my eyes on landscapes, that weren't beautiful at all, my heart was sad and deeply disappointed by reason of an unrealized trip to the famous Taihang Mountains. But while I continuously kept drawing that landscape there aroused a particular feeling for the brush, which first was in my eyes and hereafter in my heart. The blank horizon, the blunt and humble poplars, cypresses, cedars and willows, the here and there appearing ginkgos, the black power lines, the grey public highways, the loess-covered yellow side roads, the regional trains on the viaduct, the present-day buildings with their blue-colored roofs, the huge by excavating machines torn areas and the hereupon growing high-rise buildings. They together form the landscape, which we pass and see every day. The mountains don't show us colors. The rivers don't let us hear their sounds. We even have forgotten the smell of autumn. We have forgotten the happiness it bestows on us or how we flee it. Yes, we have forgotten how to love a season and how to release. In that huge country China, in its North, South and West, we do all see the same landscape. In that landscape we are living and waiting, watching for our story, standing at the same crossroads and putting on the same face. We look left to the distant villages and we look right to the equidistantly far cities. Where are we? What is to become of us? How is tomorrow? These questions I ask myself while sitting in my car, driving along the motorway or sitting in the train and looking out the window. I certainly know that there are no answers to these questions; nevertheless I like to consider them. And when I confront my soul with that landscape, I can actually touch the borders in all its different forms. A journey to the Taihang Mountains could not make me feel the emotion which aroused in the meantime. With such a feeling on my mind I am not lonesome.

Wang Muyu

（毛豆译）