Years flow like water, the dust will fall on the road of memories, drowning the brilliant bright light, the scenery in the depths of memory is like a dream, who promised to whom for no reason. How to stand on the path of this birth into a parallel opposition between this shore and the other shore. The other side of the flow of years, those thousands of miles of letterhead, those warm pieces of ice heart jade pot, those fingertips of the flowers are gorgeous, those true love of the dialogue, in which fragments were cut, into scattered and intact memories.
Looking back, I see those words and sentences that have been written for whom, those feelings that have been displaced forever, those fragmented pasts, and those who have always been unhappy, which are already unbearable to look back on the other side. Formatting, wanting to delete who has been related to it, can't see it, the heart won't remember it. Choose to forget, face the sea after sunrise, and look forward to the simple life of spring blossoms.
All the people who walk on the strange road are like people who have looked back countless times in their previous lives, but they still pass by in this life. The smile that can no longer be given, the past that cannot be continued, all the sustenance will eventually flow to the journey of displacement. Began to fascinate the scenery of the strange city, touch those dappled lights and shadows, close your eyes and walk in the deserted streets, step by step according to the straight line in your heart, open your eyes but you can only shake your head all the time, or walk crooked.
The direction of the heart is also so difficult to determine. The cyan stone slabs under the camphor trees look clear after the rain, like scenes in ink-colored landscape paintings. It's just that the picture never freezes easily, just because it's always just a passerby. What stays is only a momentary heart, leaving no trace after leaving. Who can see that those steps are following the same trend, and it is difficult to move forward. It is always to be left behind by time, just like the begonias after the rain will not remain. No one is the original appearance, because they have forgotten when they are originally.
Jin se is just a pity for no reason, why should the blue sea and blue sky night heart, who can keep time, can not go back is always a memory. Plato's eternity is the heavens and the earth that he promised to whom, and the earth is desolate. After all, there is no eternity. Because of the illusion, so flocked to the moth-like posture of fighting fire, thinking that it can achieve a desperate blossom, after all, not all encounters are strange blossoms.
If, strange, first sight. Just turn around and forget each other, no matter how cold this time is, it will not hurt in the slightest. It's just that it ends up falling into the clichés. How to smile and pretend to be warm and peaceful, telling, the years are quiet, the world is safe. How to retreat unharmed.
In the meantime, those who waited for the years to pass, those prosperous glass once, those moonlit cold nights, those moon-cold painting screens, how to carve a warm appearance. Only by forever becoming a stranger, not returning to the original path, collecting sunlight, silence, silence, can we use good medicine to warm and cool it. So that you don't have to sit and wait for the flow of years, the old man himself, in the flow of the middle of the green silk like snow. The other shore flows for many years, and it is finally green, fat, red and thin.
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