Goodbye, time

Goodbye, time

Lightly twist a paper bookmark, write down the sentimental feelings of fleeting time, change the story of the past, after several rounds of reincarnation, let the time breed and spread, and crush the past. I like to record the years in my fingertips with words, lean against the window alone, comb the old wounds carefully, look at the past leisurely, and take all the memories of empty melancholy. Doumo complained about his bosom mind, and his love was so long. It was an old scene, and his old friend had disappeared. Text: standing in front of the window with a wisp of breeze, counting the traces left by time, washing the floor, but mottling the memory. Holding you in my hand, burning incense devoutly, cutting off a candle light, lighting up the economy, not asking for soul-stirring, just asking for love a sad and beautiful song echoing in my ears, in an instant, let me suddenly fall into the abyss of infinite melancholy. Holding a finger of time, walking alone in the scenery of the fleeting years. I was once obsessed with the grace of words and the sadness of words. Those sad and emotional words were like jumping notes and burning lonely hearts. The gentle dance on the tip of the pen, like a wisp of warm wind, has also warmed the soft heart. The passion of time burned out the last wisp of dark fragrance, and all the dreams that had been compiled were suddenly gone. The so-called eternity and the so-called happiness are just the prosperity of strangers. That meeting can not reach the gradual departure of time. Time can crush youth, and time can change appearance, but there is one thing that time and time can’t melt, that is the missing treasured deep in the city. I can lock my pen. But it cannot lock love and sadness. I can’t see the autumn water that I can’t wear, the world of mortals that I can’t see through, and tap my heart one by one. The story of you and me is engraved on the heart. Love and hate are long, a little bit of worry. The Lovesickness of the past years is scattered in the deepest corner of the fleeting time. I have been walking on the road in a hurry and have no time to take care of the scenery in front of me. The season and sunshine have been deeply forgotten by accident. The instant and instant beauty flows in the air and many things are within reach, gradually fade away, but the pain is always my own. Only when you stop your heart, open the window and focus on some plain things can you suddenly find the miracle and brilliance in your life. I have been used to shuttling back and forth among strangers, passing by with smiles again and again, and never looking back at each other’s appearance. I know that if some people are destined, walking through thousands of miles of rivers and mountains, there will also be times of meeting. If there is no chance, looking back for several times, what will happen? What adds is just extra sorrow. Wandering in the crowd, I don’t know where to go. Maybe the passing of time is too ruthless, which makes me lose my sense of direction for a time. On the platform of time, there will always be someone coming and someone walking. When they come, the gorgeous scene will bloom with smiles. When they leave, the back will be buried bit by bit with a picture. When they are used to the ups and downs, they will be relieved a lot. Vicissitudes the annual rings of old trees grow wildly round and round, and they all forget the vicissitudes after the Rainbow. In this way, the stream once covered with luxuriant grass and dreamy cobblestones was leisurely, slowly, slowly and leisurely soaked in the brightest longitude and latitude in life, soft and charming! It seems that there is no trace, but the gallery of history has already been fixed. Under the Sky, in the sea, a lonely Walker stopped the waves and sang; In the vast sky, he bent over to pick up the seeds of dandelion left by the season, she clumsily planted some deserted lines of poetry. She walked alone, gradually moving away, gradually losing the sky and the sky, and the clear light was on the ground. Shake off the long-time memories and check out the time that has been forgotten. All creatures sang songs all the way through the flourishing season and the blooming season. However, the flourishing season was gone and the singing was not there either. Years, wind and frost engraved on the forehead, a yellow broken mark, but in the Moonlight clear especially sad. Twist the time lightly, watch the scenes passing by, the guests passing by, the stories wandering under the time, and listen to the breeze sighing. The shallow marks of time have smoothed my too many rhombus angles, and the ruthless carving knife of time has carved out too many memories of me so that I can’t find the traces of my past every time I think about the past, however, as for your figure being blurred by the river of memory, the smiling face of the past, as time slips away, I don’t know where it is scattered? Pulling the memory back to reality, the feeling of desolation highlights one’s loneliness more and more, which is the silk thread of memory. Eventually back to starting point. Along the way, I have experienced one after another spiritual station in my life, but my return is still so far away. How many days and nights are embracing loneliness, listening to my past as smoke, sighing, looking back like a dream, the year of beauty is easy to fade. In the light time, you don’t have to be surprised by some discoveries, because many beauties have been flourishing for many years. How much time do you have in your life? The flowers on the street fall and Bloom, Bloom and fall. In this way, the years passed quietly in the silent time. There was also a past and a meeting in the deepest world of mortals. I have understood that life is just a gathering. No one wants to go to me for a period of past events, doing meaningless addiction. There were also Memories and casual separation. Before the flowers fell, I had already drunk a cup of tea tasteless. Time is a green pen, using ink like running water to write books planned by time. From ancient times till now, we have performed the same theme in different stories. Years light, homecoming. Goodbye, time. Like (prose editor: Shu Kuang) change the way to continue to stay with this city I went out at 6 o’clock in the morning and came back at almost 8 o’clock in the evening. From beginning to end, I only welcomed myself with silence; Since I went to college, on weekends… [Original essay] string words Since winter, the sky is dry and the snow is misty. 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