at traumas tomorrow will bring. you’ve learnt through experience everything you need to know. what else are you looking for? when a man gets to middle age shouldn’t he be looking for a peaceful and stable existence， find a not-too-demanding sort of a job， stay in a mediocre position， become a husband and a father， set up a comfortable home， put money in the bank and add to it every month so there’ll be something for old age and a little left over for the next generation?
chapter two
it is in the qiang region halfway up qionglai mountain， in the border areas of the qinghai-tibetan highlands and the sichuan basin， that i witness a vestige of early human civilization， the worship of fire. fire， the bringer of civilization， has been worshipped by the early ancestors of humans beings everywhere. it is sacred. he is sitting in front of the fire drinking liquor from a bowl. before each sip he puts a finger into it and flicks some on the charcoals which splutter noisily and send out blue sparks. it is only then that i perceive that i too am real.
"that’s for the god of the cooking stove， it’s thanks to him that we can eat and drink，" he says.
the dancing light of the fire shines on his thin cheeks， the high bridge of his nose， and his cheekbones. he tells me he is of the qiang nationality and that he’s from gengda village down the mountain. i can’t ask straight out about demons and spirits， so i tell him i’m here to do some research on the folk-songs of the mountain. do traditional song masters and dancers still exist here? he says he’s one of them. the men and women all used to form a circle around the fire and dance right through to daybreak， but later on it was banned.
"why?" i know quite well but i ask. i’m being dishonest again.
"it was the cultural revolution. they said the songs were dirty so we changed to singing saying……
[续soulmountain上一小节]s of mao zedong songs instead."
"and what about after that?" i persist in asking. this is be
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