Warm sun, lingering

After rain, sun. At 5 o’clock in the afternoon. The air that instantly warms back is slightly wet with silk, expanding and spreading constantly, which is different from the freshness of the wild forest, and the turbidity is rolling in endlessly and spreading. Throwing away the clean and pure dry heat of Yan Xia, the sky is still dull. He threw himself in the sunshine which pricked his skin with slight pain, standing quietly, watching the sunshine peeling off his youth. Mottled, dark, lengthy inexplicable sadness, meaningless struggle time slowly squatted down against the sun, with his left hand embracing his knees, and his right finger lightly crossed the outline of the shadow falling on the ground, damp-heat and vanity. The slight stabbing pain faintly came from the back easily crossed the nerve center to reach the middle finger of the right hand. Quiver. The shade across the ground. Hidden. The huge darkness annihilated all the traces to be found. There is no scar after all. Before people found it, the eye edge trembled without trace. Turn around and stop your right hand at the edge of your eyebrows to block the dazzling gold. Let the sight wander around aimlessly. Can’t find. I clearly heard the sound of youth peeling off. Piecing together the broken fleeting time. Hate Rain. Afraid of being tied by the wet. Fear that the wall of youth, which is already not firm, is becoming more and more fragile. We can only collapse the mildew and wet youth again and again after the rain, hoping that the less violent sunshine will dry it after the rain. However, it has always been used to ignoring a problem about youth: it is so vague that people are used to ignoring it. I held myself by Yu Yang at 5 o’clock in the afternoon. I can only hold myself hard, feel the temperature of youth, and gently tell myself: my youth has been here. But there is no place to put it.

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