Wander in the words

Walking in the flashy world, shuttling through time and space, half a century has passed, I have a sigh! Go south and north, wind and rain life, how many vicissitudes, how many ups and downs. After so many years of wasting time to sharpen my life, I can still avoid wind and rain when I go back home in the cottage. A few mu of thin fields can be enough to spend the spring and autumn. When people reach middle age, they can’t believe things that are too beautiful, because they are afraid of seeing despair. Life is too short, and I already know that there are many beautiful wishes that cannot be realized any more. I have understood the numerous and noisy world, and I am content with poverty and loneliness, living a indifferent life. Now I am used to recording my life with words and witnessing the world with my eyes. My face is more lofty, but my heart is more delicate and sensitive. In recent years, no matter I am in the deep desert of a foreign country or in the dreamland of the misty south of the Yangtze River, whenever the night is still, I will sit alone in the fighting room, stay away from the troubles of the world, and put aside the attachment of, stay under one side of the screen. In the music which is like flowing clouds and flowing water and is graceful and graceful, my hands are fluttering and tapping words one by one between the keyboard, and I place what I have seen, heard, felt, understood and felt on the words. In the words, there are my enchanted affectionate stories; In the words, there are my meaningful philosophy of life; In the words, there are my boundless paintings of Jiangnan; In the words, there are my boundless and broad scenery of northern China; In the words, there is my boundless blue sea and sky; In the text, there is my verdant and clear mountains and waters. I let those fleeting years slip through my fingertips settle into words, and I let all the precious seals in my life solidify into words. I wandered in the ocean of words and felt reluctant to leave. I propped up the sky with words. Time is in a hurry, and I suddenly look back. Some hazy and fine fragments, some simple and vivid plots gently hit my heart, those old things like meteors passing through life, still lingering with the new sorrow of time. Sometimes my words are my collections when I am happy, sometimes my words are my vent when I am sad, and sometimes my words are my feelings about people and things around me, sometimes my words are just the release of my own whim. How many days and nights I buried myself in the words, those fragments of memory scattered on my fingertips, freely flowing my true feelings, happiness, romance, sadness in my words, with annoyance, all the mixed feelings appear in the text one by one. Between the lines is the telling of the heart and the calling of the soul. I read the clouds in the text, listened to the rain, invited the Sun and the moon, and I wrote poems in the text to write love mu spring breeze. I meditate in words, dance in words, cultivate in words, and shine in words. I don’t care whether the writing style is good or bad, nor others’ comments. I just twist the writing into my own mood and write the article according to my own wishes. Of course, I occasionally hide my mind in obscure words. I don’t expect anyone to understand it, nor do I expect someone to resonate with me. I only care about my own feelings. Although these words are smeared randomly, they are the true reappearance of my life and the natural expression of my emotions. The words record my mood, experience and a fleeting time. I want to use my crudest writing style and my increasingly desolated fingertips to make my life stop-and-go for dozens of years. I want to go around and write the words of splashing ink and complaint with my heart. Words will retain my past years, and words will retain my water-like years. I locked the fleeting time with words, and I carried my life with words. In fact, everyone knows that writing is just like people. You can roughly see the literary talent of a person from the spirit of a person’s writing; You can roughly see the experience of a person from the content of a person’s writing; From the appeal of a person’s writing, you can roughly see the emotion of this person. Words are the monologue of the soul. If you understand a person’s words, you will understand a person’s heart. The ancients once to wedding night, Gold placard nomination, long drought every nectar, meet old. It is called four happy events in life, but I only regard piling up words as the pleasure of life. It was late at night, and people became quiet. The sky was like ink dyed, and the world of mortals fell down like water with tender feelings. The Moonlight was bright, like a lotus blossom quietly pouring notes. I boiled the words with music to my heart’s content. As my fingers wandered back and forth on the keyboard, the words gathered into texts and sang softly. 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. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. 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