"Reader (Original Edition)" Issue 09, 2008
Dust
Author: Hu Xian
It becomes smaller, smaller It can fly with the wind, or even hide its figure in the sun - the smallest thing has wings, and for a huge injury, it abandons its mouth to cry out the pain, like words falling from a poem, or from a poem. The radicals and radicals that have fallen out of a word have lost their meaning in the continuous splitting. They may occasionally squint someone's eyes, but they themselves do not feed loneliness.
It passes through silently and falls to those places where our hands can't reach for the time being - it is too small, not like love, but like where the remaining part falls after love, where is the low place. I don't know in the end, it How can I make peace with my broken heart? I only know that some people have been saying stupidly that they want to go to a lower place and bloom flowers there to serve the dust @Hu Xian <正> It becomes smaller, so small that it can fly with the wind, even in the sky The figure is hidden in the sun - the smallest thing has wings. For a huge injury, it abandons its mouth to cry out the pain, like the words falling from a poem, or the radicals falling from each word. , radical, it loses its meaning in the continuous splitting