To: Small Time

[Flowers] Flowers live in the sky. I like my present sheets, roses, violets, tulips and daisies, which are covered with large tracts. My head is deeply buried in this soft ocean, and there will be fragrance of flowers flowing in my dream. It seemed to stop raining for more than ten days one after another. The fragrance of grass and soil mixed in the air was a comfortable sense of smell. When I woke up, the Orange Curtain still gave out warm light. Outside the window was the lofty sky curtain, but it was a little more clear than the gloomy and dark days ago. The tiny clouds scattered irregularly in this blue background, which looked like tiny white flowers. Clouds are flowers living in the sky. I have a quilt with flowers, and if I can, I want to have a quilt with clouds. When I fell asleep in a piece of snow-white, could I hear the free singing from the Sky City in my dream? [South] you are the warm south that I still miss. I often hear others’ comparisons between the South and the North. As for me who grew up in a small city in the South, I didn’t have a deep perception of the North except I had been to Beijing twice. And south like a has been hidden in the heart of small thermometer, forever 36 ℃. It is the temperature that the body can just feel. So that whenever I think of it, there will be a trace of warmth near my heart. It is not strong, but light. It never exceeded the size of the heart, but it was already very large. It reminds me of the satisfaction that still exists in this world. Even if my temper is always cloudy and sunny, even if I often complain, it is still the warm south that makes me miss. Always, ever. Is You. [Dust] when all the noise comes to peace. Each story called memory has a beginning and an end point, just like a line segment whose ends are fixed. While in the middle, it is a long period of time, which is beautiful or sad. I am not Tinker Bell and have no time machine. I am not a hero, and there is no Tinker Bell who is willing to accompany me forever. The memory was shining and drifting away from my eyes, stretching out my hands, but the pieces of broken dust fell on my fingertips. The whole world I once thought was just a glimpse. Dust. Silence. Ican’t touch the fallen sunshine.

Ican do nothing but to keep silent.

Give up. Not.

[Streamer] Hi, it was a small time for you to sing. Share Eyes in the dark night, share forgetting when saying goodbye, share boundaries at the end of the world, and share their fragrance with flowers. Let those immortality become a moment and share with each other. And all the moments turn into immortality and accumulate eternity. Become soft, this world. -By, fall. Well, it is soft and colorful in this world. End.

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