The daily routine of time, the habit of growing old in loneliness.

It contains fragments, but has escaped the sharp time.

The snacks in the mouth are like life, and the desperate emotions are catching loaches.

The morning mist fades away your figure, and the water waves shine with flowing brilliance.

Through the floating clouds, the shoes of the three thousand worlds, one step at a time.

Sunlight fills the dark corner windows with different temperatures at different times.

A moth that flies towards the light can only die in the fire.

Only Nanfeng knows that the dimples on a girl’s face can soften the summer fragrance.

Pour the water into the cup of life, the boiling reality scalds your mouth, and you take a deep breath.

Perhaps we have never noticed that there is a speck of dust living in our palms.

The morning light released from the swing of parent-child life compensates for the gloomy wandering.

Even though the sea brought a lot of salt, it was still a smile that I tried hard to swallow.

How can we climb up to the blue sky and embrace each other quietly on the other side of the clouds.

Carrying an umbrella but looking forward to sunny weather, remembering all the notes but not knowing how to play them.

The lines on the hands were dried by the twilight, and brewed by the nectar of the years into a Tathagata in the palm of a hand.

With repeated sunshine and constant temperature, the rainy season gets lost in the warming atmosphere.

Sunshine is thinking about the round and missing strokes on the road, why can’t we stop talking in our dreams about perfection.

The eternity of life shines in the galaxy, embellishing the finite life near the entrance of the black hole.

The mysterious darkness, the confused stars, and the light in my heart shine through the telescope.

Life cannot be navigated by a map, and the confusion is not the east-west, north-south directions in the compass.

Autumn attracts, longing for dusk, put on lipstick, farewell to the winter with the dead leaves singing in the wind.

The superficial outline is like a war, and I took out a gas mask from my backpack to hide my snickering.

Take a turntable that plays vinyl records to the street and walk steadily along the curved asphalt road.

The dead leaves are engraved in the strong wind, recording the indignation, and the scattered sunset cannot fill up the regrets.

Passing through the narrow door, the world rushes into the picture window from behind, crashing into a ghostly light of the city.

The diary under development shrinks the dust-laden memories, and returns them one by one, detailing the sorrows of the past.

Take care in every possible way, and there is always a pair of caring eyes behind it, sometimes happy and sometimes sad.

The water has been boiled dry. It can still boil under a warm fire. It is only a matter of time to add water and boil it again.

Walking around, I found that no place was unfamiliar, and I couldn’t even say I knew it because I had never imagined it.

That year, your figure stole my sight. Even now, I suddenly wake up from my sweet dream and find that you are no longer here.

It is damaged but has been over-fermented. It is spinning in place and still maintaining a smile and disguise. Everything is fine.

When its wings harden, it leaves the nest. Only the old bird is left in the nest, and the empty lunch box is stored in the cupboard to grow old.

Enjoy the morning dew in the morning light, Ling Po's dance in the void, and listen to the laughing sleepy man talking about cross talk in the afternoon breeze.

There are fireflies flying out of the right eye, the shooting stars will never be real rain, the red mud on the cheeks says so.

The joy that emerges from the branches in early spring is like the morning sun climbing over the mountains that cannot help but let the beautiful scenery shine on the tail of the fish, making it choke.

As long as the rain clears away the clouds and the sky clears up, it doesn't matter even if it's just the western sun that turns yellow at dusk.

Carefully recording the conversation between the sun and the shadow, I know that only by making greater sacrifices can I enter the depths of the city.

Holding the damp ticket stub, the last movie in life competes with beauty and sadness. After the end, only an anxious person is left.

Take a walk and taste the refreshing sky at dusk, thirst for the sweet sweet clouds, listen to the longing of the evening breeze, and set sail in the vague starry field.

Concentration is a virtue that is difficult to last. It is meaningless to fold yourself in half and then again in the sign language of your fingertips.