Rainy Night cloud

On a rainy night, what else can I hear except the sound of rain? Night, it is black. The rain is also black. Black, boundless, everything is surrounded by black. Here, not everyone can perceive the effect of his own behavior; At night, some components of the crowd begin to dissolve or dilute, melting the fishy smell of a little rain, floating, not the smell of flowers. Besides, there is no outline at all. Black, breathe in the way of wind, walking like shadow. Useful? Useless? Good? Loss in what? All the doubts spread along the meridians of the night with the color of the night. The sound of desire, the step of desire, harmonizes the ink paint in the vault. Ink paint, is the ink Paint Saving Light like black gold? However, there is no way to ignite. Therefore, black paint is still the original chaos. Let alone the darkness of night, it is the initial form of light. With it, the miweng smelt the hidden smell at night. I thought: how much capacity does Black have to absorb and save until it turns into a symbol and becomes a huge psychological hint, and people unconsciously sink into it. Black is not a kind of distribution of audio. How much energy can the resting light derive from it? Many atoms are not waiting for the moment of fusion, are they?! Black makes light light, or it is the background of light, or it is the mother of light, which has corresponding reasons. Black ink is brilliant. Wu Weng, began to lead his own thoughts. At this time, the light sleepless and deep sleepless people lost their hearing because their ears were soaked by the darkness of the night, and even closed the window lattice of illusion. Even though their lips and teeth are still creeping slightly, gnawing or biting. Sentences in old dreams cannot retrieve the corresponding stories and explain the blindness and hesitation of their behaviors. There is no connection, and there is still no connection. Just like the teapot, there are several cases, while the teacup is in the cabinet, the tea is still the new bud, the water is still the mountain spring flowing in the mountain stream, while the people who want to drink tea are in the fetters. They are different from each other in different spaces, such as scattered letters, which have not yet formed a syllable, becoming an image that may echo and can express a complete word meaning. If there is no change, we are just numb. If we can’t feel the pain, we are just in a painful state all the time. I tried to breathe as usual, black, which is a kind of sound absorption device. Even if my Chinese wandered through it, I could touch the expressions of vibration and black in the night, it can perceive the overflow of some substances, but it cannot approach its boundary. Although there is no overturn, there is no annihilation, silence and sound, both have the first opening or closing, or stand far or near in the subjective domain of people, but in daily life, demonstrate my behavior in the form of light. It can’t be said that the night is blocked, otherwise, how can many objects start people’s thinking and make accurate judgment on the upcoming reality! Mixed images and messy light and shadow are making plays of night rain. Everyone, every awake person, every person, no matter in peace or embarrassment, is collected by the broad plot, creeping along the details, and also thriller in suspense. Even if you can’t see each other’s faces. However, they are still mutually resisting each other, avoiding getting close to each other’s bodies. Even use the ink of the night as a barrier to avoid the coagulation of one’s breath and others’ breath, and avoid disturbing each other with the pounding of heart. Will there be any form of reduction? The original paper is stacked, and all the pictograph, understanding and imitation will be restored to the original again, and no other meanings will be generated. The sun is the Sun, the moon is the moon; The mountain is the mountain, and the water is the water. Soil is soil, and land is land. I can’t see the shape of the rain, but it hides well, and it is even everywhere. If so, Wu Weng also dispersed the voice. I don’t know, which one can hear clearly the words mixed in the night and in the rain? Only with the stain of rain, who can distinguish what is the component of sound. A split flash of electricity tore the mottled night. Wu Weng, with a glimpse of his eyes, don’t paint the night deliberately. In fact, any retelling or annotation of it is only a trick of skin and watch, but not as good as flesh and bone. Therefore, many experiences have been tampered with, mute, and lost the lips of appeal. The pale paper, the infiltrated ink, and all the things I heard and witnessed were not loyal to the reality. The real situation, however, is between heaven and earth. Everything follows the physics, rebelling against human desire, forming a lasting weak confrontation. What’s more, the words which were intended to be immortal were engraved on the stone and dismembed, leaving incomplete strokes, moaning or crying. As for what is being deleted at night, what is being added, and whether there is any trace of it, anyway, I have been completely passive. Even if it is not a machine, you can use the fault as the reason to get the rest time when completing the instruction. The water of the soup, the flow of the soup, and the unfinished leaves were taken off by the wind, choked in it. But sometimes, Shiran: that leaf is the shadow of the heart, otherwise, why does it take the heart as its shape? Embarrassed, embarrassed, aggressive. Have you ever damaged the order of the night? Have you ever changed the density of the night? At this moment, the Thunder burst and the light dazzled, shaping the black in the shape of fear. A few days ago, the air did not flow, and it gathered in the heat and did not disperse. I wanted to steam people and stew people until it fades. The mess that could not be picked up can only be figured out after the rain of Hou touched. After all, there are loose cracks in the night, and green buds can also grow, collecting the light of his day to eliminate the darkness. The rain in summer does not need to be brewed or promoted for a long time. After a long time of Yu Qingjiu, he suddenly fell apart, which was in line with people’s subjectivity. According to people’s expectation, he was crackling and knocking just like the words of Tang Dynasty and Song Dynasty, calling on the sleepy soul. If so, the sudden rain in summer will always drench some people without cover. It can’t be said that the thickness of the night, the figure of the appointment is enough to pass through. The hidden night elephant connects with the drops left in the memory and fights with each other. If so, outside the sound, outside the bright elephant, a kind of dark matter, with rays outside the consciousness, hosts the depth of the night and indicates the direction of the listener’s thinking. The night fire, which is easy to be ignored, sinks in the new of Xu Xu, and turns into the illness that is easy to be felt. However, the wounds that were not alive still hurt secretly. A pair of wings flying from the thought engine rushed to the predetermined light, but it was dissolved by the night soon after passing. The waiting encounter will never happen. And the glitter of the stars hanging on the various ways of the night was washed away by the rain. However, the stream of soup that cannot be filled, supplemented by other forms, fills all corners of the night. It seemed that it was not clear about the knowledge of the nature of returning to the Soviet Union. What posture would it take to appear in the following day’s impressiveness. At that time, the weak voice connected the ambiguity and muddling between Tianyang. On the other side, there seems to be a spear of confrontation. For a fresh order. All life seems to lose profound intellectuality. And the dormant seeds, bitter and other opportunities for germination. The concept of losing packaging and having no new ideas is still sticking to the original essence. It is just in the inconspicuous and vanished with some relics. The unfamiliar face, with a familiar smile, conveyed Yi Xie. However, the familiar face shows a kind of embarrassment to avoid, and there is no way to help. How can we deal with arbitrary theories? Because he spoke with gunshots. The voice that cannot be understood is overflowing. The faded color has been like the old rubbings, which are gloomy, cloudy and astringent, losing the most basic elements of life, and narrating the most primitive vicissitudes with different grammar. However, all the actors and actresses have escaped from the bondage of the plot and performed the joy and sorrow that had nothing to do with themselves. They became the freest elements, discarding props and masks. Looking back, looking back for a long time, there is no complete plot, which is shrouded in a decadent climate. How to reach the other shore with stumbling steps. Ah! Are there any clear eyes? Are there any ears that have never lost hearing? In the night, the shadow of the fall finally drowned in the darkness of the night. And the soul, which was covered with a layer of clothes, also sang with a faint breath, mixed with mist to the silent and colorless low song at night. Similar colors, dissimilar states, similar states, dissimilar colors, never tell the most secret things. Scattered sentences seem to lose the restraint of grammar, with the breath of the disabled and coughing. The intention of losing was to escape before the curtain call. The sad flowers blossomed, and suddenly thanks. This does not mean what changes will happen in the days. The constant mind upholds the will in obligations and responsibilities. The establishment of Mongols is the gaokang of the night. Thunder rang, rolling and approaching, suddenly, empty and lost. Call with signs. In the daytime, organized singing eulogizes the non-religious religion with empty voice. The flowing red cannot hide the bloody violence. In the high-pitched, the revived hero, in the form of background, floats and plays tricks on people’s mind. Ignorant people, sing, drum their cheeks with their vital capacity, and sacrifice with their inflated lips. Wu Weng, from their expressions, heard their most real heartbeat. Wu Weng, slightly close to the eye, false to imagine. The performance is not the end, but the end. From the actors’ expressions that had not been removed together with makeup, they clearly perceived that their hearts were still continuing the story. They are still living in the plot, and they are still bearing the pain and sadness of some characters. People whose consciousness is raped are numb, which is the same as the props of drama, but only foil the so-called vanity. It is tedious, just the flowers collected, which are confused and confused, but not the way forward, leading people to the real and simple spring. If so, when tired singers are silent and speechless, their greatest harvest is the emptiness of spirit. Hungry, but no real food; Thirsty, but no pouring of Clear Spring. This is an era without idols. People are just humiliated by rights and money and become their slaves and captives. People are constantly losing their authenticity and becoming machines. While Idol is just an uncertain suspended Phantom, not a spiritual extraditor. The new superstition stole the enthusiasm of idealists, and also won the enthusiasm of opportunists. The ancient idols kept peeling off in people’s minds, and their slight ideologies were also depressed one after another. It is just like special effects in myth, and will not inspire people’s life too much. People begin to lose their reading eyes. It seems that all the papers are no longer bearing history, but only some colorful colors. The rain was louder. After the flash of electricity, the loud thunder was buried in the dense night. Yes, at night, isn’t it a huge tomb? Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. 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