Tonight, two people live in the same village, and my mood is very chaotic.
Not all because I stood you up that day.
The peach grove on the beach has become a memory of the past.
On both sides of the mountain
Memory is full of fragrant Sophora japonica.
In those difficult years.
We followed each other from both ends of the river bank.
Dig out all the dead leaves left in the cracks in the stone.
firewood
A strange word in the city
It is the ardent hope that the heatable adobe sleeping platform and the stove fire will ignite.
The outline of the village is faintly visible in the wisps of smoke.
Taipinghe
It's the splash from the childhood river.
The chill of air conditioning at night
The total feeling for no reason is harder than the heat of the kang mat.
Winter heating
It is difficult to reach the mat along the street in summer.
Talking to Sang Ma with a cup in his hand.
Summer brings happiness.
The mellow and sweet time of screaming in the street.
Midong university
Disappearing peddler
When jadeite cabbage is dried and preserved in winter
The calmness of jade in snowflakes.
There are crisp radishes with green shoots dug out of the cellar in the new year's goods.
It was a cold and pale year.
Nowadays, there are good wines and rich clothes.
This river is still that river.
This village is still a land of plenty.
That river still exists.
There is no water or sand.
Hutai No.8 Vineyard hides wheat seedlings that can't see the edge.
A small fortune is a car.
The shadow of the electric car is also the "Audi" swimming in the ordinary lane.
And your figure is the end of the world that I can't see with my head down
Today's day
It's already a pie in the sky
The most bitter day was the pair of swallows on the telephone pole.
But now you.
An umbrella broke the bridge in lonely Xu Xian.
The rain at dusk still falls on the sad stone.
I still miss that pile in my dream.
Not collecting enough firewood.
Whenever the tired dawn comes.
In the figure of the cleaner * method.
I'm deeply sorry.
Piles of fallen leaves were ruthlessly pulled away from my eyes.
If time can reverse the shuttle
There were too many leaves in those days.
Do you have any other options?
The red chamber is full of begonia without fragrance.
Perfection does not exist in stagnant memory.
There are only swaying oleanders in the yard of my hometown.
You can see me curled up in a foreign country.
A village for two, a village for two.
That's a village, isn't it?
On the land of China.
The village is returning to the village.
There is no hard liquor.
And oats
Peas don't want to blossom.
Wizard, he left and never came back.
You can't climb the Double Ninth Festival.
Sitting on the bench in front of the door.
A crutch becomes a classic of time.
Gourd and hookah form memory and imagination.
After 20 years of neglect in the well site system
The growth of weeds and trees is the most pleasant.
Shuyun, an old locust tree.
Also formatted by years
The pulley retreated to the well.
You can't just appoint.
There are two people engraved in the village.
Two people are trying to sculpt a village.
Prehistoric significance and eschatological conclusion
Overlap in a specific time and space.
When thinking and memory become blurred with age
There is no need to pay attention to the color of sunrise.
Cockcrow and morning
Grain and dusk
I heard there was a phone outside.
There are also yellow bracelets and consumer associations.
This village has its own track.
Carefully refused the leave outside the land.
Including dioxins, carbon emissions
Melamine, melamine and Sudan red
In the loneliest environment
A village for two people
Trying to compress the information of the farming age.
And let future generations look forward to decoding.
In the surviving museum,
Anthropology proudly announced that it had found another opportunity.
Every time I argue for them,
Can enrich the originality of evidence
On a recent mission,
Let the lonely countryside move towards symbols and culture.
Go to the wall.
Recordable rhythm
It's just that the scenery is a little desolate
It's just that marginalization is happening one after another
The sunset in Erren Village is a lantern that we hang in the distance.
It's only a short distance from Lishui Village, and all the birds live in other places.
Birds' backpacks are better than ours when their feathers are full.
Retract the arched body with wheat fields and add some red.
Time is when we hold hands, hold lanterns and cook porridge.
Coughing and beating each other turned into plumes of smoke.
The village is big and small, with four feet.
Stumbling, strolling, measuring and counting every sunset and sunrise.
Smoke is the string of the village, and we bounce off the rain and snow.
Butterflies and agarwood appear like wine on elegant days.