Nesting at home in the name of raising the cervical spine can avoid the embarrassment of having nowhere to go on the National Day.
Fortunately, there is no shortage of food or clothing at home, and there is not much fear, just eat, sleep, sleep, and eat.
After all, it was the set of sofas that took it all on.
Lying down or sitting can be done to suit a variety of postures.
At half past three in the afternoon, a few sad songs touched the deepest part of the soul, and a few tears quietly fell.
With the arrival of autumn, there are too many entanglements, and from time to time there will be a kind of sadness about the future and happiness in my heart, and I want to let go but I am persistent, and I can't escape the game life, and the dusty memories will always be secretly opened.
I immediately became alert and reminded myself that I couldn't be so sentimental and caught up in meaningless memories.
Then he got up and put on his clothes, and shouted Hanamaki and went downstairs together.
Wandering aimlessly is the style in the eyes of Sao Ren Moke's literature and art.
Going to a specific place or a non-specific place to collect and collect materials that are conducive to creation is to collect style.
For example, a painter sketches in front of nature or pedestrians, a writer goes to the folk to collect dialects, colloquialisms and folklore, and musicians go to the folk to sort out folk songs and local songs, etc., all belong to the category of collecting style.
I'm wandering around blindly, wanting to see the chaos of the world, not in the strict sense of the word.
On a sunny autumn afternoon, you don't necessarily have to be happy for a casual walk.
Daolang, who was abandoned by his ex-wife, went to Xinjiang to recuperate from the death of love, and accidentally wrote the world-famous "The First Snow in 2002", and has since entered the palace of musicians.
I accompanied the flower roll and the flower roll accompanied me, wandering aimlessly, hoping to have something new to stimulate the silent inspiration.
I went out from the north gate of the community, went east along Wulian Road and then turned left on Beijing Road, and there was a seamless monitoring to record my tracks.
Hanamaki seems to have read the hesitation in my eyes for a long time, and it actually went ahead and served as my guide.
Put down the trivial things and look up in October, the whole city is the most beautiful, annoying summer, not into the autumn mood, neither cold nor hot, not wind and rain, the sky is high and the clouds are light, the scenery is complete.
Representing the image of the city, the two-way eight-lane Beijing road is full of vehicles, and my myopic eyes have no time to distinguish the license plate before whistling by, whether it is a distant guest to see the sea, I can't make a conclusion.
This traffic flow is not congested at all on the wide Beijing road, and the speed is not fast or slow, and it is very pleasant.
There seems to be a sound of "I would rather be a corrupt person than a big fool" in the whistling exhaust, reminding passing drivers who to thank and who to curse.
When I crossed Shandong Road with Hanamaki to the direction of Jinhua Building, Hanamaki was handsome and cute, which was the most beautiful scenery in the city on the third day of the National Day holiday.
The green light turned on, I clapped my hands, and the flower roll cat hunched over its back and ran quickly north along the zebra crossing, and the 30-meter-wide Shandong Road took five or six seconds, and its speed has exceeded 95% of the national second-level athletes.
I always have to match my text garbage with a live picture, so I turn on the wide-angle lens and capture the scenery that I think represents the mood of the moment. The pixels of the mobile phone are generally too casual and the framing is too arbitrary, and several pictures in a row can't carry my associations well.
A dead man who has grown old with a bad guy in Xiluqigou watched my family's flower roll wander there, and moved his ambition to take it for his own.
The old thing pretended to have a casual encounter with Hanamaki, quietly leaned down, and stretched out the sinful Nine Yin White Bone Claws.
Apparently it wanted to pick it up and take it back.
I watched the old thing's evil deeds from afar, snapped my hands three times, and raised my head vigilantly as I was looking for Hanamaki, and deftly dodged the claws that Kankan was about to touch its fluff.
The old immortal glared at me with shame and anger, he didn't expect that I, as the owner of the flower roll, would be able to leave him with an old life to make trouble between heaven and earth.
The wicked have their own evil people to grind, this kind of scum, temporarily stay, to those who vent their impulses without a goal as a target to practice, only to die worthwhile before they can die well.