In autumn, there will occasionally be some warmth, and I am attached to the gradually depressed human world. The sun sprinkled in front of the window, overflowing the tea cup, wandering between the windows, the warmth of the memories surged into the heart, whispering about yesterday.
One day, remembering the breeze outside the window, I opened the window, twisted a few rays of light, and woven the autumn scenery into a splendid embroidery, draped on the body, and integrated into the season.
With the window in, there are also a few flower sisters, with the most comfortable posture, quietly stopping in the sun and lazing.
Reaching out to pluck it, it was calm like an old man, as if it had read the ukiyo-e thousand sails, and could see the rain and light of the world gathering and dispersing.
Under the blue sky, a cloud is like a flower, that is my mood at the moment, scattered with a light fragrance, attracting a worm, accompanying the time.
This afternoon was quiet, quiet enough to hear the sound of falling leaves, and the only warm thing was the big sister of the flower dressed in fiery red, which provoked the mood of asasu.
It would pace freely on a power line, drawing my thoughts out of the lines and letting the eyebrows follow its figure and wander slowly.
What a disturbing elf! Simply put down the boring books, attract the ladybugs to the fingertips, lean on the arms of the autumn wind, and play freely.
Fortunately, there is still an ability to take the world's boring as fun.
Sitting under a tree, hanging out with the elves in the arms of autumn, or esoteric as life-like choices, or as shallow as dinner dishes.
Like this feeling, there is a soul quietly listening to you tell the secrets of the heart, will not complain about you, will not laugh at you, will not give you a lot of opinions self-righteously, you just put the inner unbearable catharsis, after the pain, continue to write about the wind and snow in life.
The combination of sunshine and sweaters always warms up to the point of intoxication. The flower sister fell on the flower sweater, and the color was crowded into a poem, with a heavy ink color, dyed with the rhythm of late autumn.
I never thought that I could wait with a ladybug for a sunset in the sun-filled afternoon, in a happy time.
Quiet us, watching the crowds on the streets of late autumn together. In the hustle and bustle, some people wrapped in heavy cotton coats, some people wearing tweed coats, and some people running into the streets in sweaters.
You see, people are really different from each other, whether it is the perception of cold and warmth, or the understanding of things, it is the "difference" that creates the world, and we do not have to be surprised or difficult to understand because of the difference.
Just like at this moment, I have a lot of fun with a few ladybugs, and those who laugh at my boredom do not understand at all, that in a faint day, there can be such a shallow joy, and life is already full of fun.
Suddenly, the wind rose, the silence of the years was moved, and the flower sisters met in the wind, as if the flowers had their own ideas, broke into Fang Fei's forbidden land, and enjoyed the joy of breaking the rules.
Because autumn will quit, I walked into the silhouettes of the elves frozen in the grass and trees, using a filter called warm, and remembered the past in the snowy season.
The tip of the nose felt the smell of rice, and the first lights of the evening were already on. Cool breeze hits, hide in the house, hold hot tea in hand, so that fingertips will not lose warmth in autumn, take a sip, warm the long starry moon, tonight's dream will not be so lonely.
Outside the window, the town is quiet, and the flower sisters have found a proper place to live. There may be rain tomorrow, and after the busyness, I don't know if I can meet the elves dancing in October.
Wipe away the fog between the windows, the stars blink, the moonlight lights up, and the night rhyme pours into the window ledge. I secretly promise that the friendship I have made today will continue tomorrow, and together with the ladybird who spends her days lazily in time, record the story that belongs to autumn.
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