Some people are worth thousands of years at a glance. Some things are just a matter of life. I am a woman who was born in time. I hold the fragrance of flowers without saying a word, but I know the taste of time by smelling it.
Winter, approaching, narrows the distance between me and the cold. I sat sipping tea in the November time, watching the arrival of winter, although the footsteps are light but so compelling. The coldness suddenly came close to the skin, the wind blew sharply, and the coolness plucked the hair one by one, waking up the sleeping thoughts.
When tasting tea, what you taste is the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, and the charm is still there between your lips and teeth. Tea is clear water, green. Good tea is fragrant and intoxicating even before you drink it. I like tea, and I like good tea, such as Tieguanyin, Biluochun, Pu'er, Dahongpao... The tastes are different and each has its own unique beauty. If you taste it with your heart, it will be more refreshing. To make a cup of good tea, you must have good water. Good tea must be leisurely and relaxed. If the heart is simple and pure, the tea taste is indescribably beautiful. Those who practice must be compassionate and willing to give up. They have the intention to let go of their obsessions and choose a piece of tranquility to drink with the time in the rolling world. They show elegance and charm when they raise their hands and eyes.
When the greenery on my fingertips passed through the purity of time, I sat in the cloud water and retreated. Sometimes it is already late, and sometimes it is half a lifetime old. It turns out that we are all children who grow up in time, blooming alone and silent. When the first rhyme of winter brushes against the warmth at the neckline, the cautious hair no longer sinks quietly. Taking advantage of the footsteps of late autumn that have not gone far, I suddenly look back to pick up the warmth that has been lost in the passing years. Wherever I go, I will only miss my beloved the most in this life.
As night falls, the fireworks in life begin to rise, and the graceful posture sways with the breath of time. The pendulum of time rings the annual rings. Time knows the taste and the world has love. I am a person who can live a prosperous and peaceful life, so many years later I suddenly discovered that the so-called life is for myself.
I am far away and miss you as usual. I like this sentence so much, and I miss the distant woman softly with a warm shawl on me at this moment. The memory of when I was nineteen is so vividly engraved in my heart. Perhaps, the most innocent age meeting is the most beautiful thing, at least it is a rare and precious memory in the journey of life, which I don’t want to forget in my heart. How are you? Asking about it gently, I just remembered it in my pen and ink, but in fact I have never forgotten it.
Many years have passed, and I still write every winter night, listening to an old song and quietly indulging in the old times. When a gust of wind blows, I will tighten my collar and stare into the dark distance under the cold moonlight. The inky night becomes cool and cool with the rustling wind. I would drink G7 coffee when I was alone, smelling the warm aroma and thinking about the snow in the north and the transparent ice hanging under the eaves. The things that happened when I was a child were really frosty. Every time I think about it, it’s like the howling north wind blowing through my heart and the pain that penetrates my bones. I know it’s a disease caused by longing for me.
After growing up and living in exile, the clouds floated like clouds. The blue sky was as blue as the legend of a dream. Yun'er could not live without the sky but could never catch up with her. So, the wild geese landed on the treetops and only stayed temporarily. However, after all, I know very well that when I first set foot on the train going south, I was destined that the future is far away, and there is no going back from the past or the future. Life is a journey, and I am not the one returning home, nor the old friend walking in the snow in the north. I am just a speck of dust floating in the world of mortals, tiny, very light. When the wind blows, it will fall quietly and come quietly.
There are many things that are not worth recalling, so I really don’t want to think about them. As the night goes on, the coolness becomes cooler and cooler. The leaning shadow thinned out under the light and turned into a cool poem. Crossing the threshold of time, winter is coming, can spring be far behind? The sound of horse hooves in the dream clattered into the Jiangnan in April, lilacs were blooming all over the ground, whose roof was paved with bluestone slabs? The sound of singing came from deep in the alley. In the dream, I don't know that I am a guest. Outside the dream, I always look for people with small bridges and flowing water. Outside the bamboo fence, wild grass stretches into a path, the flowers are full of fragrant stems in front of the courtyard, and the vegetables behind the house are green. Bai Luomei said: "True peace is not to avoid the hustle and bustle of cars and horses, but to build a fence and plant chrysanthemums in your heart. Although the past is like the past, the sound of waves is still there every day. As long as we eliminate our obsessions, we will be quiet and peaceful. If you can, Please let me advance a lot of time, even if you pay it back one day, I don’t know when the rainy season will stop.”
Presumably, the most beautiful Jiangnan has been destroyed at this time. Covered by wind and frost. The green and black tile walls and the long Ban Alley no longer see the woman walking in the lilac rain in April. The cold wind rolled up the withered leaves and fell into the cold season. What should Jiangnan look like at this time? I heard that it was snowing there too, and Bing Ling'er's waist was accidentally broken by the wind and frost while hanging upside down under the eaves. But now I am in the south of the south, silent in the coolness of a city, not too deep, not too cold, I can only hear the crisp sound of wind falling on the dusty windowsill, and I can't pick up its continuous gentleness.
The heart starts from the beautiful and beating joy of the words, and travels from the thin and indifferent colors of the words. There are many kinds of the most beautiful women, just like colorful flowers, competing with each other. But there is only one kind of woman who is as quiet as the snow in winter, falling quietly and melting. The frailty in character, the stubbornness in the bones, and the fragrance and arrogance like plum blossoms.
Perhaps, this kind of woman has no warm emotions, no warm communication, and even does not give in to any honor or interest, and only does one person's thing... But this kind of woman will not be lonely, will not be lonely, and will never be Lose yourself.
Time also knows the taste. Is it considered old to give up the thought of making fragrance? Watching winter getting deeper and deeper. The increasingly silent time also seems to be entering the silence of winter. The thin object was also old and pressed against the bottom of the box. Perhaps, I won’t pick it up again for a long time, but when the time comes, I will smell the scent of aging, as if I will remember it in my heart and lungs in an instant, and they are just beautiful in the time.