Suddenly, a petal fell on my shoulder and rolled down my body under the wheel. I was moved by this little desolation, got out of the car and pushed forward. Not far away, there is a small flower tree, trying its best to open the last flower. At the same time, those once beautiful pink flowers can't resist Xiao Feng's call of "smashing into mud and grinding into ashes". I walked to the tree with my car in my hand. Somehow, I felt that the nameless flower tree was conveying some information about life, and I was very confused.
Suddenly, another petal quietly hit my left cheek and landed at my feet. I intuitively found that the word "autumn" was clearly engraved on the stump. Once passionate and full of interest, it can only be turned into a fragment of life at the moment when the flowering period has passed. I can't help sighing deeply: Why do flowers sometimes wither? I am inexplicably excited and sad, as if between raising my hand and letting go, I am throwing away something, and what I am throwing away is something that makes me feel sad and carefree.
At this moment, I suddenly found that the nameless flower tree was densely covered with a layer of small green fruits. I don't know what it's called and what it does, but at first sight, I fell in love with that bright little thing. Oh, flowers bloom and fall, just to breed this little fruit! In an instant, my heart lit up. The true essence will only be revealed after you have experienced noise and loneliness. Of course, this kind of noise requires you to improve and spend it with diligence, tenacity and persistence, and this kind of loneliness requires your patience and positive enrichment. Flower trees bought many fruits with falling petals, but what about our life? Those beautiful praises, persistent pursuits, and countless tears that fall and climb up should become personal lofty ideals like flowers, rather than the price of painful compassion and success. Because the sound of falling flowers is beautiful and happy, they leave more important essence and more little lives for the continuation of life!
Flowers are beautiful, but falling is more meaningful. I will spread the petals of life one by one on the road to success. I won't regret it, and I won't sigh for the inevitable stagnation between my efforts and the end. Because I understand the greatness of falling flowers, I left the best things to the continuation of life!
On a moonlit night, I was alone at home, thinking about going home and returning to work. When I woke up, only the wind dispelled my sorrow and sadness, and my heart was broken. There is no such deep lock between life and death, but the price is rising, which has no substantive significance.
Separation may not be as great as life and death, nor so earth-shattering, but it is more meaningful than meaningless life and death.
I love the beginning, but he insists on separation. I think the beginning and the end are as beautiful as autumn flowers, and will eventually return to dust. Endless moaning, there is no memorable beginning, except when I leave, I have more thoughts and less troubles.
He and I happened to be born in the same era and were treasured by our parents for a long time. Don't ask me what I want to express, everything goes with the wind, but I remember the back when you left me at the end of October.
Everything is like the autumn wind sweeping leaves, leaving no trace. Memories are mottled but stop at the end of summer. Occasionally, memories pass by, but there is a shadow. The change of shadow is paid by tears, forming a sad picture. Let everything go back to zero and return to today's melancholy. Perhaps I was afraid that this meeting would make my heart even sadder, so I walked out of the door and walked to the station ... In my nostalgia, only his blue boat was catalyzed into a thousand miles of light smoke, drifting to the cold autumn festival with dusk, recalling the beautiful scenery that should have been a few days ago and the bleak parting now. Maybe your tone is not so heavy, but what I hear is your sincere expectation. Tonight, I want to accompany the full moon and see Chang 'e, even though there are many kinds of customs, I have nothing to say. So, I began to move towards the light, no longer endless practice.
The sudden high temperature makes people suffocate. Suddenly, the rainstorm hit people. Inadvertently remembered, I opened my previous signature and wrote on March 2, 2009: March should have been spring, but it snowed all over the sky. Every snow makes me remember it vividly. You sent me away that morning, and it was dark outside the window. When I went downstairs, I was surprised to see the snowflakes falling under the street lamp. So he hurried downstairs, and winter was not over yet. And I took off my pants early and refused to admit that spring had not arrived yet. Just like now I refuse to admit that spring is over. Every heavy rain makes me extremely happy. Even if you have a cold. I will feel cold. Spring is not far away.
Every day on the road, when the plane trees on both sides of the road are green, the whole sky is green. When I heard birds chirping on the branches, I jumped from one branch to another. April is your season. How I want to forget. How powerless I am. I try not to write any words and not to think about you. Because I know that when I hit the keyboard, my heart will inevitably bring up that faint homesickness. Last year or a little earlier the year before last, I could think of you in words and wish you happiness. Just a few days ago, I was still brewing a text about you, and then I forgot it. That's great. I am happy when I am brewing. I am also happy at this moment. I think you will be happy, in fact, just because I miss myself who was once happy. Inexperienced self. It's all gone.
When I am writing, I must turn off all the sounds. So it's just me. Everyone is not alone. Because he still has himself. He can still talk to himself. Everyone has an unknown story in his heart. Shameful happiness. Humble homesickness. Crazy self-struggle. A sleepless night. I don't know what I really want. I don't know if I should
How to do it. So I struggled, and all kinds of ideas were entangled in my heart. Staring at the ceiling until dawn, I can only ask what happened to me. Some people say that those who can write the story of soul collision must have a story. The so-called spiritual communication is nothing more than seeing yourself in the other person, or the other person telling himself what he can't say. After all, I am accompanied by these incomprehensible words. Hug each other for warmth.
Spring is my favorite season. Because it is too short. I have snow that others envy here. Others have four seasons like spring that I envy. But I also know that if I was born there, I would be like them. For example, I miss the white cotton skirt in winter. Miss the pure white world in summer. Nothing is rare as long as it is held for a long time. So we often sigh deeply after losing it. So I kept leaving. You can leave anytime, anywhere. I am not a vagrant. But I often put my soul in mid-air and look down at myself. Is it time to leave? Want to leave and want to stay. There is no direction. Insecure. This is the best way to protect yourself. So I am eager for the other party to give, otherwise I have to leave suddenly. Even loneliness and pride were taken away.
How lonely emperors have been since ancient times. Throw yourself out of this world. The higher you stand, the more you tremble. Women in the court gradually became thoughtful from simple girls. In order to survive, each of us will gradually split into different selves. The continuous spring rain will come next every few days, and it is threatening. It seems to take away all the dust in this city and give us fresh air. Blue sky. Living in this dirty air for too long. It won't wash clean. What the eyes see is getting blurred. The weather is getting drier and drier. I dare not look around with my eyes wide open, but a little bit, the dust fell in. I haven't seen weeping willows and green leaves on the shore for a long time. I haven't picked wild flowers everywhere for a long time.
, colorful
I walk in the spring breeze in April, and time becomes hasty and short. Bought a cactus and put it on the table. It's sunny. Let it go out in the sun. Its thorns are very tough. I didn't know when I touched it for the first time, because I touched it out of curiosity and stabbed my finger. You can only look at it from a distance, not from a close distance. Always on the defensive. But I can't help touching the hard one. It is said that it can prevent computer radiation. At least look at the computer when you are tired of staring, so you are not so sleepy. April 25, 2009. Write in the sun. Looking at the bright green, I looked down and smiled silently.
In the drizzly spring, walking in 800 miles, flowers are in full bloom, and raindrops are still hanging on the flower bones, adding a little helplessness; Green trees cover the eyes, and smart swallows fly low, blurring the eyes of exploration. Some leaves were soaked by the rain, blown by the breeze, turned into green leaf butterflies and fell to the ground-everything seemed to be telling. Starting with the noisy floating dust and the fidgety fog, I suddenly fell into this mountain and this water. The mountains and rivers are beautiful in the distance, and the streams are gurgling at my feet. I doubt that I have entered another foggy world.
800 Li, Peng Zu's hometown, 800 years old. Are you looking for the legendary fairy? Or inadvertently melted into the sadness of our old people's hometown. This heart is integrated with mountains, water, love and scenery.
The archway of "Medicine Street" stands in front, with quaint fonts and blue stones, which remind people of that long time. The long old streets are like the ties of the long river of history, leading people to the Ming and Qing Dynasties, to the Tang and Song Dynasties and to the distant Yin and Shang Dynasties. The old brown houses are lined with layers of layers, which are arranged like strings on a staff. The owners of these old houses may have changed for generations, but they are still experiencing wind and rain, frost and snow; They witnessed the changes of the world and dynasties; Maybe they are the base of a big family, maybe they are just the shelter of ordinary people, but whether they are rich or poor, glory or decline, they have all turned into wind and smoke, but these wooden buildings are still welcoming the arrival sooner or later.
Moss has been covered with dark tiles and climbed up the white wall. The paint on the wall pillar has peeled off like spots on the old man's skin. Wooden door. Wooden walls. Cracked a series of tiny cracks-the trace of time is the wrinkles of the old man. Peng Zu, 800 years old, is not as old as before, but he is swaying in the wind just to find him today!
Say street, say lane. Both will do. Walking into the long slate alley, we walked into the long past and entered the historical corridor of Yin, Shang, Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing. Empty old streets always feel left by their predecessors. Leather shoes beat on the slate, making a "thumping" sound, as if beating the pulse of history. Horsehead wall, the beauty depends on the situation, but these simple words are the most beautiful elements of the castle. The high cornices and layered eaves give people a feeling of fluency, exquisiteness, elegance and flying. Green slate, long-standing ancient street, simple and dignified exudes the mellow atmosphere of Qingyuan.
Push open the wooden door with a creak. The room is dark, giving people a sense of independence. A few golden rays of sunshine passed through the lattice window and rolled to the ground like uninvited guests, scattered in every corner. Exquisite wood carvings, empty carvings or real carvings, flowers, birds and animals, and various customs. They are all superb, and the corner of the bracket is also a perfect art. Maybe they were once the masterpieces of craftsmen, and I don't know who is enjoying their masterpieces comfortably. I don't know who is standing leisurely in the deep courtyard, with a hookah in his mouth, and the hookah keeps ringing, and then spits out a string of long and dense smoke rings. Behind the patio and lobby is the purlin. There are two chairs in the main hall with a coffee table in the middle, and the green tea seems to be steaming.
The spring water is slightly blue, and a clear water is reflected in front of you. Generally, buildings in water towns in the south of the Yangtze River are built by water, and there are women made of water in the south of the Yangtze River, so Jiangnan people often give people a unique elegant charm. Sleep by the river with a pillow at night and have a good sleep. Look at the raindrops, blowing through the muscle layer of the water surface and scattering a blue halo. ...
This situation is beautiful, who can match it?
The voice of "eyah" came. Sitting on a wooden stool, listening to the soft accent of Yue Opera. My ears have been worn out by crazy rock and depressed pop music. Listening to Cantonese opera in such a remote place is really a spiritual enjoyment. A century-old Yue Opera, a century-old joke, saying that drama is like life, and life is like drama, all of which are silhouettes of history and reality. Sadness, ups and downs, is just a scene that has passed away. I was infected for a while, and my heart danced wildly and my passion surged.
Out of court, I stepped on the green flag again. "Hitting" sounds very old. The rain under the eaves dripped down, merged into a trickle, and disappeared into the gap of the slate. Yesterday was the day before yesterday. It was like a stream flowing for hundreds of years, and it flowed into the dusty past. Maybe there are old stories everywhere. If you walk around, you will turn a page in history. If you tread everywhere, you will touch a dynasty. Thousands of years of rain, as before, faint fog around, leaving traces on the broken wall.
The narrow lanes are deep and the scenery changes. The "Baihua Building" with white walls and blue tiles appeared in front of us. It is said that there was once a girl named "Chou-heung" who rushed through the blue platform door, bypassed the patio and gently pushed open the door of Chou-heung's boudoir. I thought there would be beautiful women hiding around, but it turned out to be just an empty room. Where is the beauty? Suddenly I feel a little lost in my life. Look at the girl's boudoir. It's not a waste to come here. Why do you have to meet her when you admire her? It seems that the color quilt of Luo Zhang in Jinyi is still fragrant. On the dresser, I saw some people who were driven out of their wits. How many mornings, how many nights go to bed, women's pink peach blossoms and moss stay in this mirror like fog. "Yesterday's day can't stay, and the past is gone." People go to things to save, and there are several sighs.
One side of the wooden stairs twists and turns, and the wooden floor creaks. Who is looking at the railing upstairs, and the peach blossom fan is still covering half?
Out of the "drug street", it is an open area, and in front of it is the trumpet-shaped Qingshan Lake waters that extend outward. You can take a boat, sail out to sea in the boatman's cell and click on the water in the penny. This is the intersection of history and this life. Maybe there should be a name here called "Peach Blossom Harbor". Once in Hong Kong, it seems like a lifetime ago. Encourage language wet hair tip, "if the rain. Dusk and darkness. The sky is up and down, and there is a blue sky. Li Jing swims in Ji Xiang, Sha Ou. The long cigarettes are sold out ... "The poem came out naturally. The wind blowing on the lake, with a little wet smell, looked at the green mountains and green waters and forgot all the insults. Standing by the lake, the wind is stronger, and the bottom of my heart is full of spring flowers. ...
Lost in the time of 2009. My wound is festering and I feel panic. My filth is difficult. Eager to find a place of permanent peace. I began to understand that the palm print in my hand, the countless silk threads, endless thoughts and desolation. Wandering in the city, time is still there, flowers bloom and fall, people who love and don't love are everywhere, playing the game of soul chasing alone.
Will you be reluctant to part with those days and forgive me for the rainy day I took away? At the fading window, we said goodbye to each other. Wandering for 6 years, leaving behind a little bit of broken good bye. Because I have the same expectation, I have nothing to say. The pen is too silent, leaving a faint ink mark. Please listen to me quietly. I don't know when I can write, or I can stop writing at any time I don't want to remember these things. Missing is like a curled-up dead mark. No matter how hard you wipe it, you will only wipe it more and more. I once again came to my corner at dusk, and everything remained the same. Looking at the years when the yellow horn is peeling off, I feel sad, flashy, dreamy, and the wound does not flow.
Leng Yue that night, time is in a hurry, only to see the lonely shadow of broken time, the sadness of falling flowers. Close your eyes, want to let the darkness engulf you, want to find a place to rest for a while, open your eyes, the years are still hazy, lying on the lawn, the cold wind blows, and the cold bun is blown again. Looking up at the starry night sky, the night is half bent. I wonder if this fairy couple is so lonely in the cold palace on the moon. Fireworks suddenly appeared on the edge of the city. After a while, the sky began to turn red, and only the heart was lonely. Looking back, I found the number of the clock, but for a few seconds, it was like reincarnation.
Time has passed, and it is no use sighing. In any case, everyone will say goodbye in the end, be calm and pure.
Walking indifferently, I just bowed my head and sang softly, slightly saving my sad mood, too much helplessness and too many memories taken away by time. Although it won't last forever, this moment is a narrative text.
immortal
We all lost time.
Another year the wind blows. Listen to the ups and downs, that is, talk about your feelings. From time to time, if every inch of yin fluctuates in my heart, how can I stay up all night and become a gentle style? That year, far away, did you hear the sound of falling flowers? Looking at the letters sent back and forth, over and over again, I found that there are always right and wrong words. No matter what he wants to say or do, only he knows. The original text was accompanied by the autumn wind and autumn rain that year.
I once blindly thought that I could forget everything as long as I closed my eyes and walked in the dark. I thought if I covered my ears, I wouldn't hear the noisy abuse around me. I thought it would run aimlessly when it rained. I thought I could cry silently when I got home. However, I found myself so naive. At this time, I suddenly woke up from my dream, and I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I can only bow my head and smile in silence.
Flowers bloom silently, and the clouds fall. Last summer, late summer and early autumn ..... Memories are like short-term puppets. Once you open your mouth, you can't help yourself.