Days “folk art” solicitation

After thinking for a while, I have been writing a word for half a month, except for the information sent on my mobile phone and the supermarket shopping memo written on a small piece of paper. In fact, writing is neither my occupation nor my necessity, so why should I think of it and give birth to a feeling of unsteadiness. Today, a female writer said that her friend once said that saving 2000 words on the computer every day was no different from the sense of sureness of saving 200 yuan every day. This statement makes me envy. Saving 200 yuan every day, or saving 2000 words, is so practical that I can’t finish any of them. I should be very uneasy! But when I analyzed my own feeling of a little unsteadfast, I found that it was actually specious. I am slowly following my inner appearance and feel at ease. What can I do if there is no strong wooden life, including the purpose of every day and every year. Looking forward for ten years, I found that I had been in a state of anxiety and worry before, but nothing worrying happened. I made this process inadequate and leaked air everywhere. I also found myself a very loose person, and when I saw words like struggle and struggle, I felt goose bumps all over my body. I thought it was wrong in the past, but of course I should struggle. Now with the thickening of the age, the truth emerges and is no longer controlled. What can we do without fighting. I have enough food and drink, and I don’t spend much. I live in countless mental life every day. Time is free, and I leave it at will. Only in this way can I see that I coincide with myself, and my steps seem peaceful. There are so many people in the world, such a different life, and there will always be people whose way of life is beyond your tolerance and imagination. I am just an ordinary person, not surprised or outstanding. I just decided to make myself happy. There are many feelings of happiness, and there is always my own one. I didn’t write for half a month, because of my physical discomfort, I suddenly felt tired of writing. All I could express was that I had passed the image in my heart and had no interest in turning it into words. Moreover, at first, I thought what if I didn’t write it out. The days passed, which was the only meaning for everyone. What we can’t do is to stand side by side with the day affectionately and attentively, watching it passing by. There is such a pair of eyes in the world. Maybe in everyone’s depth, we turn around, it is in the back again. So we can only do something to go with the days, what to do, and what is the difference? The difference is only the mood at that time. I’m tired of writing, so I don’t write any more. I feel very good after half a month like this. I did other things that I was willing to do. I was hungry, ate, sleepy, slept, watched simple TV, watched video discs and restrained the habit of writing notes. I didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable, and when you see something similar to power in some moments, save it quickly and put it in your heart. Looking through Borges’s articles casually, there was a passage jumping out like a bosom friend, which made me feel hug immediately. He said, sometimes, his boredom was like a kind of happiness. Sometimes, his psychological activities are not much more complicated than a dog. I don’t have to say anything here anymore.

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