Notes before the text of a book or after the title of an article.
Time flies, and the years inadvertently cover my shoulders, leaving only a narrow tunnel. Standing on the branches in deep winter, looking for familiar figures. Facing the square screen, let your fingertips dance on the keyboard, let your mood flow in the words, let the past drift with the wind, let that tranquility and exquisiteness enter your arms, and your thoughts begin to fill with that faint fragrance. When the wind of memory gently passes through my heart again, the chrysanthemums in the courtyard bloom in the branches again, walking among them, blooming like songs and lonely as shadows. A disappointed look can't hide too many expectations in my heart. That beautiful encounter, the smile in the depths of bright eyes, quietly flowed at the fingertips of time, gently twisted my inner euphemism, dressed up a beautiful time, and filled the past and shallow books with worries. The ignorance of that period of youth and the expectation cherished in our hearts seem to have been hidden in our hearts for thousands of years. The years of youth are full of passion and dreams, and the hearts are full of beautiful and moving poems. Whispering under the peach tree, endless infatuation. The labor site, the lobby of the conference room and the wooden chairs in the reading room all left our happy footprints. Looking back and staring, I always feel that there is a colorful flower in my heart, which will make my mood move forward with my fingertips, twist the most beautiful time into a strange note and flow quietly in time. Thank you for letting me spend the best time with you. Record beautiful moments with your fingertips. Walking among the flowers is like a song and desolate as a shadow, gently twisting a euphemistic soul, and the charm blows through the low eyebrows and smiles, which breaks my heart and has an indescribable good feeling. Life is just that ethereal and clever artistic conception, and the fleeting years are full of the first beautiful encounters.
The morning mist is diffuse, and my mood is like vines. My thoughts bloom quietly in this winter morning, lingering, and my shallow thoughts come with the wind, singing like fallen leaves in this winter. Scattered thoughts are wrapped around your fingertips, drowning thousands of prosperity, and soft morning mist pours into the softness of this winter morning. When meditation becomes a habit, everything is so unreal and so real. This feeling once again passes through my heart, and that warm color has dyed my world red.
Stroking the strings of meditation without a trace of bitterness and melancholy. The potted chrysanthemum in the study looked at me silently, and I could feel the tacit understanding between me and it. The indifference and calmness in its eyes made me feel the existence of love. This is the mood, bittersweet, bit by bit, even if. In this dull time, I seem to be deeply immersed in the color of the morning light, unable to get out of the image I have been shaped for a long time, as if there is a frightening magic. When silence touches the cold keyboard with your fingertips. Holding a wisp of fragrance, write down the meeting with you, let all the sadness begin to escape, and let the colorful colors decorate the inner strength. Open a half-closed book, and many faded memories are so familiar, so real and so vivid. With the influence of Chun Qing's years, it continues to extend in sentimental dramas.
The scenery of the years will always be full of colorful fragments. Whether you want to string them together or not, those unforgettable scenes will always emerge in your mind inadvertently and precipitate into unforgettable memories. In the river beach of the years, grasping a handful of sand, how much time and how many memories are like the fine sand in your hand, which easily slips without leaving a trace. Looking back, it's like a dream, and everything in the past is like passing clouds.
A wisp of tea fragrance came and tapped on the lonely window. In winter, I write desolation with sadness everywhere, and take away all the sadness with warmth. The oath proudly bloomed on the street corner, and the distance between the eyes could not be measured from now on. That faint miss, shallow injury, entangled with the soul, share all the happiness. Perhaps it is destined to be a beautiful encounter, floating in the fine fragments, writing a prosperous life, sighing, and ending in sadness.
The agarwood of the years spread in my heart, and the past that passed away took root in my heart. Once a little bit, silent time, with a little bit of loss, a little bit helpless. Deep in my memory, there will always be those sad and clear eyes. That glance was the truest thing in my life. If the past is yesterday, how can the years alternate like a song? There is nothing to do but do nothing. Don't be affectionate and heartbroken, only love is stronger than ruthlessness. Gently stepping on the door of the years and picking up a touch of heart fragrance, I always feel that the beauty I meet blooms in my heart like blue, nourishing the feelings of missing in my heart.
When time quietly flows away like water, it inadvertently takes away too much beauty. The seasons alternate, and we are full of flowers like songs and desolate like shadows. Some are very strong, and they will mature after everything. Looking up at the window, there is always a meter of sunshine, and time is lightly smeared with a silent poem. The lintel of memory will always be lightly daubed on the letterhead inadvertently, and those hurried past will always knock on the door of memory quietly with the silence of the night. The past fleeting time is full of feelings about life and life, and the longing for that infatuation is like a moving poem and vivid as a picture scroll. That kind of unspeakable warmth always has a feeling in my heart! Some are very strong, and they will mature after everything. Lost lush green flowers and trees, standing silently in the cold north wind, I can feel the silence in their hearts. The wind is blowing, the sky is blue and the fragrance is bright. There is a poem in the painting, which means light, and it has a long aftertaste after years. Years like flowing water, nostalgia for the past is written and touched by every encounter, which is the most beautiful fate in life. At that time, the light once again brought us to the starting point, with less complaints and more warmth. When the soothing melody winds around my fingertips, it is quiet, unique and fragrant. A touch of warm sunshine in the morning lingers in my heart, and my gentle mood flows quietly.
This winter morning is especially clear and dazzling. I like the faint light of the deep blue mountains, which can make all my thoughts fly all over the sky. The wind is light, the heart is just fixed, and tomorrow should be full of red and flowers in the mirror. I like this quiet time in winter morning, which calms my impetuous mood. The clear night sky is as deep as a mirror, without a cloud. The cool fragrance of chrysanthemums around me comes quietly with the breath of fresh earth, embracing the soft and fresh air.
Twist a bud of time, bloom quietly in the long years, make the recalled time fragrant with the faint feelings of the past, draw a thin pen, write endless tenderness, sing endless words, and complain endless lovesickness. I really want to spend my whole life writing a poem for you. Twist a ray of sunshine on your eyebrows, hang a beautiful one on your ear, pick a green one to listen to the years, play a flowing song, and still taste the flowers. Take time as a pen, time as a note, love as a rhythm, love as a style, from romance to dullness. Brewing another season of floral fragrance, with a wisp of daisy's calm, relaxed and light fragrance, away from the noise, quietly sharing a leisurely time of Zen.
Those distant times, those long-lost waiting, those stranded feelings will eventually enrich all the years between the beginning and the end. Go through the years, sing in a low voice in the joy of time, and relive old dreams in the cycle of seasons. Time weaves rain, time sews flowers, and after stormy waves, I gradually understand that nothing can be forced. Time has diluted everything in the past, and let us learn to cherish and be grateful ... With a shallow mind, we always dream of staying away from all the hustle and bustle of the world, watching flowers bloom and fall, smiling at clouds and clouds, wandering in the deep winter season, letting the past go with the wind, leaving ourselves with an eternal agarwood. Time is a song that can never be sung, and time is a book that can never be written. Those years that accompanied me all the way were full of happiness brought by friendship. No matter how the years change, that sincere friendship, like cherry blossoms, has long been deeply embedded in my heart. Holding a ray of warm fragrance in my heart, with true friendship as my companion, there is an encounter not on the road, but in my heart. No matter whether time is used for remembering or forgetting, many memories have a unique flavor in the passage of time. When you meditate quietly, you will find that we should learn to forget the pain and remember to be grateful. Looking back on the lush years, there is still sunshine. Mature elegance, the dust settled in the time of drifting away.
Looking from the window, the buttonwood tree downstairs is swaying gently in the morning breeze, while the chrysanthemum next to it is still staring at me. Maybe I'm guessing my mind. When my hand touches its pale yellow petals, I can feel its expectation and climb to my fingertips quietly. Many people or things have gone through the baptism of years, some will gradually go away, and some will be deeply hidden in their hearts. I like to let my thoughts fly with the wind in this quiet winter morning and enjoy the reverie and tranquility brought by the faint fragrance. A wisp of wind blows, with a faint fragrance, whether it is blessing or resentment? Everyone wants to record that beautiful and moving moment with their fingertips. Life is beautiful, and time is short. During that wandering time, whether there is sincerity or not, there will be a warm past. Warm a cup of tea and savor life in the thick tea fragrance.