The taste of life

I knew Xi Murong very early, but I didn’t read her books carefully. I read her poems by accident, which made me read them several times. She was so delicate and quiet, it is also so acute. Just like the mountain breeze in the morning, it blows across your face and stings your heart that cannot be prevented. Most of the time, when I feel it, I will choose to close the book, hold the book and curl up in my own corner, thinking about her feelings. Although my mind is blank more often, I like this posture and this state. She mentioned how many years it would take to fill this turbulent ocean, how many years will it take to eclipse the mountain rocks into fine and soft sand and spread them evenly under my feet ……. the tung flowers are gone, but there is still a soft sound when the flowers fall in the forest. Walking back to the long road, I don’t know who to prove this kind of sadness of happiness and sorrow. With infinite silence and indifference around, every tree returned to its original corner. I looked back and looked at him. The peak had passed. If I went on, it would be the boundless and boundless Road without holding or hanging, right? The mountains were silent and didn’t want to answer me any more. In the gradually deepening twilight, it seemed that they had forgotten how childish and pitiful passion the mountains had when flowers blossomed. I had to come back and wait for the time to pass away, hoping to gradually forget all this like him. However, why, in the dark night, still heard the sound of Tung flowers falling in succession in the deserted forest? Why? Flowers are gone, and I still have the sound of flowers falling in my heart. The flowers are gone, and there is still a sound of flowers falling in my heart. One, one, falling gently in the deserted mountain. My mind will be completely trapped in her woven gentle net, like lying in my mother’s arms, unwilling to get up..

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