Dwelling

That year, a strong wind blew a group of homeless people like us to a remote town, like a cluster of dandelion blown to a corner it had never been to by a light wind. We stood on the asphalt road just enough to cover the soil, like a group of newly arrived immigrants, watching the sunrise rising like childhood, watching the sunset falling like hometown, watching the cars and trucks shuttling back and forth gradually at the not crowded crossroads, staring at the time flowing slowly, and running away in the rolling dust again and again with the wild autumn wind. We are busy foraging and surviving in this land that does not belong to us, sowing our own hope and letting our immature roots float in the air. Seeing companions escaping one by one, some caught the tail of the wind and went back to where they were, some went to a new corner with the wind and suddenly felt that the vicissitudes were close to themselves, coming or leaving constitutes the past of life. When I rolled up my trouser legs in the rainy season of summer and waded through the flood which was soaked to my knees all over the street, I finally saw the flickering distance in my dream. On a cold morning, I finally stepped on the Frost all over the ground and walked into the heaven that I looked at day and night with the wings given by my hometown. Heaven has charming scenery, beautiful sails, too much noise and disturbance, but there is no peace and tranquility in the heart for a long time. Therefore, in a bleak autumn wind with fallen leaves, I went back to the small town by bus alone. There were a lot of people on the bus, and they were very noisy, all talking about the home they hung up day and night. This couldn’t help reminding me of the scene when I went home or left home every time. On the way, the car went and stopped, stopped and went, shuttling between different cities. The scenery that flashed countless times from the window seemed familiar and strange. Passengers went up and down, up and down, and then integrated into the place they wanted to go, hometown or distance. This rotation is just an instant feeling or impression, and the car is heading to the next stop. In fact, life is just such a journey. The shuttle between us seems accidental or casual, but it is our whole life. Every detail and the deep connotation in the details reflect the essence of life. From this point of view, everything is just on the journey. Canyang finally fell into Qiu Si in the smoke of dusk. Wisps of smoke rose from the wilderness, which warmed the heart of a car of returning people. When the sky was gray and the moon was on the treetop, they could walk into the house which had been separated for a long time. But the floating smoke also awakened the wandering dream. The smoke from the kitchen is theirs, and the bright moon is theirs. I will continue to cultivate my wasteland in their joy, watching them walk comfortably, work silently and live in a regular way. But I thought there must be a few wisps of smoke and a bright moon waiting for me in the dusk of my hometown thousands of miles away, so I felt at ease. I couldn’t help thinking of Zhu Ziqing, Xia gaizun and Feng Zikai who once took a walk at Baima Lake, and Ma Lihua and the royal family who once stopped at Alibaba in Tibet, they all appreciated the grass and trees beside them with a simple heart, washing their hearts in the pure nature. Yes, life is not in the region. Sometimes, a barren stone on the land can make us understand the complicated life, while those noisy traffic will make us go further and further. Therefore, when the bus arrived, I firmly set foot on the land of the small city. Now, I still walk calmly in this small city which is far away from the provincial capital and the urban area, and watch the rising sun and setting sun, and the flowers bloom. Often, those days that seem plain and quiet are the most real life. And dwelling is not only a kind of life, but also a kind of mentality and philosophy of life. Like (prose editor: Dielianhua) 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. The whole earth is desolate and empty. 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I am who I am, fireworks with different colors

It was late at night, and I heard loneliness singing. It was so cruel that I couldn’t help crying into a river. I couldn’t find the way to come. The slim clouds and smoke made my heart ache again. What I am longing for is just that the years are quiet and the ripples are slight, not the wind and waves. It is not a fireworks in the world. Don’t be vigorous. I am willing to guard my family and join hands in the traffic in the streets, regardless of current events. I am just an ordinary woman who is indifferent to water. I don’t ask too much for tomorrow. I just want to walk quietly in the alley of the big city for a period of time, ignoring too many short stories and not asking about them, too much and clouds. I am just a cold and warm woman in the world of mortals, no longer pursuing perfection, no longer demanding life, no elegant clothes, no exquisite jewelry, no gluttonous life. I like coarse linen, I like green tea and light rice, and I like plain and light. What I want to miss is that when I am tired and sleepy, I have a warm home, which shields me from the wind and rain, makes me happy to dock, and makes me hope for life, it makes me give everything without complaint or regret. Looking back suddenly, look at myself now, tears are still hot, tears have been cold, loneliness around the body and mind, I am so embarrassed to sink in a foreign land at night, how lonely it is. I don’t think how lonely the sky is. It turns out that the distance between the ends of the Earth is really far, far away, so far away that I can’t hear a familiar melody, so far away that I can’t hear your words day and night. Whether those flowers of the past have already disappeared, why my heart misses me so much, and I can’t find a refreshing and warm past, whether time has forgotten me or myself. Love is far away. I haven’t seen each other for a long time. My heart is empty, like a desolate desert. In this way, I can still live. I can’t find the way back, I can’t find the warmth of the world of mortals. No one knows how lonely the fireworks under the sky are. Sparse stars hide, no one knows how lonely people in the world of mortals are. (2) it is about winter. When will you ask me to return to my hometown? I also asked myself softly, not at this time, I don’t know when, I think it will be in winter. Inscription the winter of December is another season of falling snow. No one sees the tears falling in my eyes. I am reluctant to let them grieve for me. I am walking alone in a strange street, walking the sadness. The warmth that can’t be touched and the care from a long distance are fantastic. My heart can no longer hold up and look up to the sky. There are you, me and him. How can I stop the steps that time can’t keep? How dare I go back to the fragmented distance? Flowers falling in the wind, Flowers withering in dreams, my heart is like a flower grave, my eyes are standing there crying. I can’t remember whether the happiness in the depth of the fleeting time has been here or not, and why I can’t remember all of them. However, I saw the shallow scars in the fleeting time, which were deeper and deeper, and I was still so clear as to recuperate. The world has given me so much, but it is not what I want. I want it. He forgot to give it, or he gave it wrong. After all, there are so many people in the world of mortals, there are so many similar people. What I wished was not so much, just a little bit. Why? I must refuse me thousands of miles away. I abandoned my self-esteem and stood behind the humble. Why? I must send me to the cliff. Did I owe it? How long will it take to return it? In this life, I am tired, and I don’t want to return it. Can you discuss it? This life, I’m tired, I don’t want to return, can I continue in the next life? In this way, deliberately alienating, in this way, deliberately leaving, in this way, deliberately escaping, I thought that I would turn everything into motivation, but I couldn’t reach hope, how can I continue? Sitting at the crossroad of youth, I looked left and right. I was in a dilemma and had to stay still. Time is still passing by. The only thing I can do is sadness and tears. I dare not tell others about the loneliness in my heart. Who knows how to say so much? People may forget or have no way to feel what everyone thinks is important. It is better to be silent. When you are quiet, you will be fine. You ask me, when will I return to my hometown? I also asked myself softly, not at this time, not knowing when. I think it will be in winter. I think it will be in winter. The night was dim, and no one knew whether the fireworks in the air could fall back to the place where they took off. As the days went by, no one knew whether I could go back this winter. (3) I am me, a fireworks with different colors. The sky is vast, and we should be the strongest bubble. I like me and let Rose produce a result. In the lonely desert, it is as bright as naked. Inscription the time is in a hurry, sadness is deep and shallow, people are like drinking a glass of water, knowing that it is cold and warm. The depth of time change is the weaving of tears and laughter, and the corner of season cycle is the alternation of light and shadow. In any case, I am still the child of my family even though the life is full of swords and swords, and I am still their child no matter when and even in the fragmented picture. I am me, with my past traces, half bright, half sad, with their birthmarks, half seawater, half flame. I packed my bag of life and felt the meaning of travel. I am who I am, fireworks with different colors. Everyone is unique. In this life, you will never find a second me. Warmth will turn cold, sadness will turn light, infatuation will turn thin, ruthlessness will turn deep. No one always pulls me up when I fall down. I can only walk by myself in a muddle. I am just a gentle and cool woman. If flowers bloom and fall, my mood will be warm, thin and cool. When I am happy, I will wear smiles. When I am sad and lonely, I will shed tears. Day and night cycle, everyone has a sadness in his heart, how can I be an exception? There is also a touch of warmth in everyone’s heart, except me? However, when Sadness strikes, warmth goes back and there is no residence. When warmth comes and falls, sadness has no trace. The still water flows deep. I am willing to be the one with still water. In the world of mortals, I will lower my head deeply and don’t want to ask too many questions, because too many questions have no answers, so I can only let them dry in memory. The strangled willow branches are green and yellow. A year has passed, yellow and green, and a year has come. Who can still remember what it looked like in the past, who can see what it will look like next year? I, on the road of the world, passed quietly. Who would remember that ordinary woman who had been here? But I remember that I was wandering alone in the Xiaoxiang River of my life, with ripples on the boat, enjoying myself. Encountering too many accidents makes my heart sad. It’s not that I don’t care about myself, but that I always have to go through. Meeting a little beauty makes my heart warm and happy. It’s not that I don’t know how to collect it, but that it fades too fast. The only thing I can do is to be a fireworks in the world of mortals, a life that blooms and withers without regret. Cherish each other, let the rose give a warm result. If you feel sad, you should also make those strong bubbles. I am who I am, fireworks with different colors. In the lonely world of mortals, the same blooming city falls into the country. I am who I am, fireworks with different colors. In the warm world of mortals, the same withered beauty is unprecedented. I am who I am, fireworks with different colors. Postscript: a long time ago, I forgot how long I wanted to write this topic. A long time later, in a flash till tonight, I sang softly and changed the words into fleeting years. Nianan. Good night. Xiaoxiang ripples, December 19th, 2011, deep 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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