First of all, the taste of vegetable roots
It takes time to get to the party.
Satisfy one's desires and entertain friends
At its peak.
Open a hole and make an excuse.
The vacuum of life is not on earth.
In the end, I can't compete with the lonely cloud.
Walking out of the cave, wandering casually
Materialism continues to invade, my three meals a day.
It's all about animals I am who I am.
Incalculable harm
The association of life is like natural matter.
I have an inborn pedigree and thinking.
Vegetarians have lean bones and vigorous leaves.
Reality is extending.
I've been drawing since I was a child, crayoning cabbage.
It turned out to be a life textbook.
It tastes tasteless and medium.
Plant a quiet life on the private plot.
Accompanied by the breeze, invited the turbid wine.
Brother, my poem is a dish.
Drink this before you go.
Second, Philosophy Hutong
I exist because I am an empty reference.
Imagination is infinite, and the end of light is only the beginning.
The unknowability of life, if there is a God.
I must be a lazy person, for this reason.
I don't want to give reasons.
The nerve of philosophy is always disturbing the order of the world.
People buried in the soil can grow plants.
If it's a vine, soft tentacles
The aura of philosophy must be tangled.
Take Sartre as your enemy all your life and repent all your life.
Turn one corner, another corner, another corner.
A hair fell off.
Open a train of thought
Without thinking, the stone persists in weathering.
I had to fall into the well of nothingness.
Like light without body, it falls on a nail.
Clearly visible pain
Paralyzed by nothingness or exposed by nails
Will become the nostalgia of philosophy for philosophy.
And use it as my way to cross the philosophical alley.
True Lies
Three. Life in The Book of Songs
A person's dusk, I am my field.
When you enter Nan Zhou, you will find slugs and green plants.
Water, I am destined to stay in the smoke of the past.
Windy back, go home against the wind.
This is not just about the ancients.
In July again, I have been to the Central Plains.
A man went to that dynasty.
That land, I planted my life
Sleeping in the Book of Songs
Those elms and bugs never woke up.
After blowing the wind, you must get lost in elegance.
It was that night.
I'm talking about a name with uncommon words.
Girl, Yang of Dongmen has opened a new branch.
Faint for a period of time, the stars are shining.
Bring a rusty hoe tonight.
Turn over the fields thousands of years ago.
Dig out the elegant things deep in the soil.
The wind in The Book of Songs blew out the flame of reality again and again.
My life, slowly
Go to the dream after midnight