Wake up to see the light rain on earth, and the mountains and rivers are still as gentle as before.

Have a good sleep. Finally, I learned to understand the lullaby on rainy nights, fell asleep quickly in the tinkling sound, woke up at dawn, faded from fatigue no matter what I had experienced, and looked at the beautiful mountains outside the window. The mist on the top of the mountain, like a silky veil, hangs there gently, as if waiting for the eyes of pedestrians who wake up at six in the morning.

Spring and summer color the mountains. After waiting for the whole long autumn and winter, you can now put on your floral skirt and run around, shy in the breeze, trembling in the rainstorm, whispering in the hot sun and quiet in the quiet night. The river has grown up and is no longer as innocent as a baby. From time to time, it fluctuates with the rainstorm, making the weather-beaten stone bridges that have been standing at both ends of the river bank look crumbling.

Breathing the essence of the aura between heaven and earth is refreshing. The air is full of the fragrance of flowers and trees. The whole village, all the houses, people who get up early and stretch, and dogs who are still sleeping under the eaves are soaked in wet rain. This natural skin care product makes the touch soft and smooth, and the ice is smooth and delicate. Everything on earth seems to be natural.

The world has become what it is now, and it should be like this. If not, what would it be like?

Busy day. I always meet all kinds of people at work, but I haven't adapted to how to wake up from work and go to life with an instrument called "Eight Faces Exquisite" when the hour hand and the minute hand form an obtuse angle of 150 on the dial.

The city at night is shrouded in colorful lights, rows of tall buildings and the fear of shortening the sight distance because of darkness. The rain kept falling on the window, and with the ups and downs of the wiper, the scenery outside the window was blurred again and again. During the day, the dust raised by the tail escapes from the air and returns to the embrace of asphalt and floor tiles.

Without an oil-paper umbrella, it is also poetic. Walking in rainy days will experience a spiritual practice, forget those unlucky people who roared past with umbrellas, forget those morally corrupt people who rushed home and splashed mud all over the floor, and forget those streets and alleys that walked leisurely with umbrellas. Although it will be a little colder in rainy days, it does not prevent the hot air or rainy weather from constantly emerging from the tops of various street food stalls. Probably, among all people, only a bowl of mutton powder on rainy days and in the evening can be called a distance.

These gentle and warm years have explained the comfort and self-satisfaction of living in a small city. No matter how eager others are for quick success and instant benefit, there are always people who play supporting roles in this painting, but they are not in a hurry to race against time, but they are indispensable roles.

Cities and villages wake up on time in the morning and evening, freeze in the sleepy moment, and wave upon wave. There is no poem that is difficult to write, and there is no distance that cannot be reached. Being in it must be the greatest happiness.

People and demons need to practice together and compete for the aura between heaven and earth, whether it is yin or pure. It is not easy to walk in the desert of the world. How can we become earth-shattering, furious and raise sandstorms?

Wake up to watch the light rain, and the mountains and rivers are still as gentle as before. It is enough to cultivate a heart far away from crowds and noise and learn to let go, let go, reconcile and harmonize.

Thursday, June 1 Sunday, 202 10.