Overlapping wings, they beat the rhythm of poetry; The shadows of the sea and the horizon grind the years into darkness. I found that I really like traveling; Especially if you go by car alone.
Wing shadow becomes a poem (I) 1. If I have read it in a book before, the book says: In one's life, one will always go to the places where you have been, take one's own road, copy the scene over and over again in memory, and get an illusion called going back in time in such an emotion of revisiting the old place. This is a false beauty. It's warm and sour, which makes people full. A mage in Inuyasha said to Platycodon grandiflorum. It turns out that when there is no more time for ourselves in the world, we are so eager to prolong our lives on earth, to be mentioned by others, to be valued by friends, and to continue the love we get on earth. 3. We are used to a room where only one person comes in and out. There is no unnecessary nonsense and noise. Occasionally, we sing a song casually or want to cry silently, because the music in cartoons is extremely emotional. I lost the ability to open my mouth and speak loudly, and lived in peace. Once, I was lying in bed with my eyes closed when I was not studying normally. Suddenly I heard an unusually clear breathing sound, which was horrible. Listen carefully, it turns out to be from your own body. Maybe the only way to be nice to yourself is to stop worrying about trivial things, thinking that even if you are sad, you won't know that the web browser is on and off, and the photos in the folder are on and off again. This is what great joys and sorrows always do: 1, drink a lot of water. Coke, black tea, green tea, coffee. Then I often stop to look for the toilet. I don't know why I always feel that there is not enough water in my body. The whole portrait is like a dry plant in the sun, hoping to continuously irrigate the roots. Step 2 sleep. Pull the hat down to cover your eyes. Fantasy in the dark. 3. Listen to music. The champion of the vulgar pop chart, or a band that is too unknown, passes through many strange villages and towns. Occasionally there are cows or sheep next to them, numbly led by people. Their eyes are turbid, like the dazzling lake in the hot sun. I can't see clearly. Only dim light. There are also many dark-skinned children who are running and chasing in the wilderness ... The horizon is a huge undulating mountain range. Their projection can usually cover the whole land. I don't have much train experience, and I'm usually far from home. At this time, I always wear headphones and play lyric songs loudly, such as Master Bug or Joe Hisaishi. In fact, for a long time, I was less hurt by the Spring and Autumn Period. But at this moment, it's easy to feel lost. When strange houses, streets, railway tracks, or endless dark cotton wool and gray clouds keep going backwards outside the window, I will feel a touch like warm water fading from my pulse. Music is like a long sigh. This kind of emotion recurs during the trip. It may be that people's hearts will become fragile if they don't adapt to strange environments. And this time it's easier to remember. The dim light in the distance in the night made me feel the touch of real life. Busy people live in a vast land. They struggled, tired, sighed, rejoiced and jumped through their hundred years. They fell in love and then separated. They look forward to happiness with pain. They will never know that one night, they silently met a roaring train. That day, I turned over a magazine, which said: A person must read Memories of Time Past before he is 25 years old, and never read Proust again after he is 25 years old.