The summer beaches are more relaxed but less lively. A person hides at the ends of the earth, looks at the other side of the sky, makes a wish on the bubble, and then looks at the other side of the dream drifting into the sea.. The changed time has forgotten the time, but I am still waiting. The long-lost day took away the living smiling face and took the starting point of life as a flying roll of yellow sand, burying our horizon. The air was filled with summer boredom. The day of departure was marked with unwanted memories of the platform. After graduation, I left with the fragrance of gardenia flowers, leaving behind a bunch of withered branches and continuing to open bitter buds. My thoughts covered my lonely shoulders year after year, and time let us go away. However, we let time go gradually. The moment of trance is an empty city.. We planted sad ears of rice, and together we will watch for reversals in the coming season. Will continue to count the ends of the earth planted in the fields. It will still be like yesterday’s smoke cloud curling upwards, silk white and painted parallel lines, which have never reached the end, but are still there all the time.. The autumn wind rose again, but the Iraqis were alone in the western window, miserable and miserable, with a few cold months and sunburned heart injuries. Moon shadow is heavy, brow is deep, sad, curtain cage around, sigh how much thought, sleepless little dusk, cold day dawn. Summer beaches are more relaxed, but less lively. One person hides at the ends of the earth, looks at the other side of the sky, makes a wish on the foam, and then looks at the other side of the dream drifting into the sea.. Spring flowers smell sweet, leaves a little red dust, lights up tender shoots and green flowers, opens red hopes, leaves fall on affectionate fingers, leaves fall lingering, arouses pink thoughts, leaves drop roses, wanders in the middle of the crowd, can’t see injured eyes, fuzzy tears turn into little acacia, a pool of tears, and returns to a rolling cloud of smoke.. Cold winter frozen my dream country, struggling to set the cold limbs, without any warmth, the sun shining on my soul, not only the body, but also the deep-rooted ones, always thought that the pain that can be anesthetized turned into snow and disturbed the peace before leaving. At that moment, I was not the only one who shed tears.. The figure left behind turned into pictures of primitive simplicity, with smiling faces full of deep feelings. In an instant, black and white were so clear, like two strangers, looking left and right together at the lingering sadness, tears falling down together, and then forgetting this strange familiarity together.. Go away, go away, fade away, forget, thank, the withered and yellow ones are like the memories of the past, and the drops are like raindrops at the time of departure. Tired, rolled up, hurt, hurt, drunk, vaguely like yesterday’s dream, absently losing our memory. Since when can we not talk, and since when can we not talk, time has turned memory into linger, but it has become nostalgia. Once upon a time, we will still be afraid of the past, of the unwanted parting, but we will still leave.. Countless, see not to wear, think impassability, forget not to drop, were buried in that desolate place. You left, I right, know that we are all submerged in the horizon of the night. You go forward, I go backward, back to back, and never look back until one day we forget how to look back. I am like a child abandoned in the crowd. I don’t know whether to follow the crowd or walk alone. I occasionally stop, but I am lost and don’t know the way back.. People are still there, dreams are still there, but words are sad. Evening sun is red, the river flows, but the end of the world. The buildings are empty, red lips are meteorite – like, so-called plaintive, but they are empty all the way. The twirling wind chimes, the ups and downs of melody, gently awakened, once upon a time, I was looking for my own piece of pure white elegance in the broken bridge and snow.. A dream, a sorrow, a feeling, a quiet, quiet parting, deep as the gauze on the red window and shallow as you look in the sand sea. Loneliness is the dependence of strangers to each other. Absence is only the hurt of making strangers dependent. Spring flowers shed tears in summer and rain, Xia Mo shed tears in autumn and precious little lotus, autumn thin bones covered with winter frost, winter snow and ice and spring flowers. Sadness is a dialogue we never talked about. We all giggled and turned away. After all, you are you and I am I.. The past is also like an invisible future, far from falling and losing the platform that belongs to us.. Spring rain, autumn wind, winter snow and the passing of each season in xia yang mean another season is coming, but people are used to this alternation, but not to this weather, and then go crazy to look for the scenery they want.. Laughing at his innocence, not knowing the simplicity of memory, and the inevitable scars, wreak havoc on the dull wandering spirit of the beginning.. Farewell, what a light word, Farewell, No More, See, Remain in Silence, Countless, Invisible, Hope Not to Wear, Transparent as Your Reflection in Bertha.