Look at your broken flowers, look at the clothes that you have patched up countless times.
Large and small patches, colorful patches, collage into an animal world, tearing all kinds of wounds and struggling with blue blood.
The long kiss of the brown-eared Firefox was opposite me. The scorching sun tanned its eyes and opened its mouth to spit out my breath.
The wind blew and the fire was swept into a hurricane by the tide. Screaming and struggling, I swept my silky fur and fluffy tail into the blue abyss, leaving only Firefox's breathing head.
A young eagle tried to take off above Firefox.
Unfortunately, it is fledgling and full of loopholes. Broken wings are doomed to be unable to support the weight of cold and heat, but they are unable to break free and are pressed to the ground by the sun.
A Huang Yun blew over, covered with dust, and the grass withered.
Some tenacious turquoise lotus leaves and buds are born against the trend, leaning under and behind red rooster's tail, swaying floating sand, holding hands and falling gunfire, and the endless river waves in Ren Xuefeng have never been doused.
I can't tell whether the duck turned around or the goat jumped. The waves stirred up its broken hair. Throw out a lake and a mountain.
If you look back, you will see a piece of blue; If you jump on your hoof, you will see a cloud. There is fire in the cloud and water in the blue, which is never allowed.
On the invisible star map, it is another pure white world, a destination given by heaven.
Colorful macaws are always scratching their heads. Will the door of Sunstone open at midnight?
Enthusiasm and vibration are common words. Arequipa is silent and always wants to sing a happy song in the clouds and dance the green ribbon of Amazon in the wind and fire. It was silent for too long and lost its instinct to speak.
A bunch of fireworks exploded on the kangaroo's head, and seven souls and six souls flew around the dome.
Those long and short hairs are reflected in seven colors with fireworks, swaying colorful customs, reluctant to fall.
Zhu Shazhi is on my cheek and forehead, for whom? There are no changes in tens of thousands of years. I just look at you, look at your prosperity, look at your vicissitudes of life, and look at you fighting all over the sky. Do you know the sadness in my heart?
My head is my little shadow, sensitive and curious, trying to look at the world carefully, just looking up, only to find that the disappearing cinnabar has become a bloody eye.
This blue mirror did not waver, but an undercurrent surged.