Write three paragraphs separately, just three paragraphs!
Those thoughts will be remembered by time.
As time goes by, the flower field of memory is still prosperous, enchanting on strangers, and the watch is fading. More often, I really feel like a gardener in Milan, waiting for flowers and plants carefully in the home of words, looking for those touches.
Every day, I meet those happiness in the throb, whispering through my fingers, once, once, goodbye and blooming. ......
one
Night, lazy.
A canoe with a faint maple bridge has blurred the fisherman's fireworks.
The story of Arabian Nights is like a voice-over of life.
The hidden desire in my heart is spreading, and I have quietly gone through a long journey. See or not, you are there, always warming your heart and eyes. Come or not, I am here, without any surprises and interruptions, laughing and laughing. The scene in the depths of the soul is pure white. It has reunited with Qianshan and is leisurely, waiting for the flowering time of this season. Butterflies are flying in my heart, meet the subway in spring, goodbye or leave.
The mind is like a plum, never dusty, and brilliant in fleeting flowers. Singing in the mountains, listening to the wind and flowers, lingering on the snowy moon, warming your heart and smiling.
In the dark, my thoughts wander. Walking in the dark and thinking, it warms the winter in the north. Sleeping with a curtain of broken thoughts, I leisurely returned to my hometown of life.
Bits and pieces of broken memories, like pieces of flying feathers, are light and fragrant in front of the court. After a season, I am as stubborn as ever. The first time I met my thoughts, I crossed the winter night in the north, and they were lush in the years.
People meet, meet, maybe destiny takes a hand, there is always one person, which is your fatal fate. A glimpse of each other is worth all the warmth in the world.
Perhaps, in everyone's youth, there is such an unknown person who carefully collects it. That person, who is with you on the road of life, is playing for a young time. Memories, lingering in the years, some echoes, hovering in Qian Shan.
two
In the old memory, I am alienated from the years. The moment of that year was like a small shadow under a street lamp, but I was desolate. Perhaps, the world is just like this, but we can't forget each other.
Years later, it penetrated the body, but it could not penetrate the soul. The reflection of the atrium is still different, the years are drifting away, the hand points out the chapter, and the diarrhea is silent. Those barriers that blend into life are like the cold stagnation on the pillow. A song that has been sung for many years may only impress your lonely years. Memories deepen the years.
Look away, maybe, memory is everything. Gently pick up the pen, travel thousands of miles with the wind, face deep, and catch a pot of autumn colors. Spring and autumn can still be full. The faint thoughts warmed the fleeting time, and finally it was a busy time sitting in front of the court.
A curtain of broken thoughts, over the years, tender feelings in my eyes, stumbling in my breath. The fate of past lives, this life to keep an appointment, is doomed to pass by. After all, butterflies can't fly across the sea, and flowers bloom and tears fall all over the world.
With you, I was caught in a heavy rain. I will hold an umbrella for you all my life and never stop.
Let me put aside the hubbub, just for a bright life. A bud blooms in my heart, and the dust is in my dream, smiling and safe.
Through the vicissitudes of life, singing and dancing lightly. Smile, the world of mortals, drifting away.
A memory, flying in the wind. Hidden colors lit up the face of the sunset.
The fragrance of flowers is quiet, deeply warming the fleeting courtyard. Such as water time, haunting the legend of a soul. Stop, stop, look back, wander in colorful pictures, and look at the length of life without regrets under the dim light.
Do you remember the original agreement?
three
Walking, walking, everything faded. Neither you nor I have changed. After all, years have swallowed up passion. Listen, listen, I'm tired of everything. Tired of fleeting time, confused.
How many people have been confused by human fireworks and entangled in a piece of paper for many years. Fragments of life, who will remember the time? Perhaps letting go of the dust is a kind of compassion. Flowers and dust fall, and years bear the triviality between fingers. The joy of the prosperous times is only a touch of memory, and will eventually disappear in the streamer.
Don't let the sadness of suffering confuse the years. Time flies and dating is lonely. In the city of memory, stay warm and feel the flow of life. Dreams will die, but they are always flashy. Don't leave crying, let the season take away those cool thin.
Solo of soul between fingers, time without regrets. Pieces of pious cities have enriched the whispers between hearts. Your heart is long, you smile and you are silent.
At the low eyebrows, how many souls disappear. Tender as water, affectionate years. A quiet dream, through the mountains of years, dreams back to Chang 'an. Twilight is full of thoughts, affecting broken thoughts and swaying for thousands of years.
Worried and ashamed. After years of high mountains, overlooking On the lonely cliff, look at the sea and flowers. Sansheng stone, Sansheng fireworks, is a lifetime of purples. A wisp of thoughts that don't turn around, full sleeve Qian Shan. A boundless thought, set up all the lights, set up the sunset.