Hypocritical, although there is no incense burning, because it is not night, the sky is dim, drenched in the rain. The most hypocritical part is that the road is short and there is a detour.
The newly baked bread in the window glowed with oil. It's just that pedestrians are cold.
A light blue plaid umbrella and a black and white blouse. The high-top black sandals are bright and bright only with red toes. Lazy these days, I want to change to gold and pink, like this half-summer time, it is warmer.
Before going out, I glanced at the flower column outside the balcony. The drinks are full one by one, and the green is deeper. How to think of it, like a man who drinks too much, there is a look of wine overflowing. He raised his mouth and stole a smile. He was really a vulgar person, thinking about ordinary fireworks. With this misty season, there is no tenderness. The smoked rain is like a lingering in the south of the Yangtze River. This sound tick-tock, whether also in the guest, do not speak. Have not been wearing cheongsam, can not be a woman in the rain lane, the deepest part, but a dream to become a water bride.
A few days ago, a group was added. Amazed, to secretly delight oneself to occupy the luck. A group of elegant people are broad and good at everything. Look back at yourself, living in a busy city of idleness. I'm glad there are books to comfort me. Don't speak, eavesdrop, steal, recharge yourself. That wise woman, every word is full of elegance, it is incomparable. Just, frown in front of love, humble in front of scholarship. Self-confidence has passed by before.
When you wobble, turn to the book. "all the encounters in the world are reunited after a long separation." how could the woman named Mei write words so lightly. Presumably, he is also a quiet Lord. The way to go is silent, only listening to the sound of the Songjian waves in the ear, watching the sunset face in the dew in the morning, and taking frogs at night. Wherever you go, Zen is on your mind. Every plant and tree, endowed with spirituality, castrate the secular world outside the world, and measure the pure land like idle clouds and wild cranes.
Misty rain, not in Jiangnan. I don't have a cheongsam. Sitting in the busy city, the ears rang with other people's chaotic songs, watching the hustle and bustle of people trying on, as well as some smoke fights that did not see the sun. I have to learn to wear a mask to fight, only late at night, listen to the cry of the soul hole knock.
I use words to feed impetuous souls, fortunately, they have learned to be quiet!
Indeed, I am a layman. On weekends, I can see the children playing at the top of the stairs and the trumpet of prying cards, which reminds me of innocence. I've lost it for years, and I can still get it back? I think I am worried that people will say that I am immature. Look, that's how I opened it and wrapped it up, and surrounded myself layer after layer.
I admit, mine is really vulgar. I will compare which of the vendors' food prices are more cost-effective. Even after listening to the poet's interpretation, I left a message, & lsquo;, I made money. & rsquo; I made the fireworks very real. But why do I envy the drizzle one after another, the white dress, the story of getting lost that year, why the old cage covers the heart?
Indeed, there is an innocence in my bones. Thinking that there is a person to think of, thinking that there is a piece of pine waves and white clouds, walking through the door of this long time with me.
It turns out that mundane things are the most true. An elegant scholar is extremely advanced. And I shuttled back and forth to listen to the misty rain and the world of mortals, describing my own innocence. Like this quiet summer, only the words as a lost soul.
Author: gone with the Wind
Post a comment