A leaf has fallen from the dust of history. Will you forget it, or just glance at it gently, then sigh and stop talking? I don’t know what kind of stories have become thick in those years. One stroke, and what stories there are, have become no longer so important. They are ordinary and ordinary. They live like duckweed and light wind, but some calmness condenses into frost at night.
The world is worthy of companionship with blooming flowers, mountains and rivers, falling rocks, and lonely lamps. Some people say that companionship is the longest confession, and some people say that time is the cruelest knife. The pieces of sweat that are torn off seem to have been. In those simple stories that seem worthless, but the historical Will the dust be so small after all that it makes people laugh? Suddenly, a fire bursts into the sky. It turns out that you lit the firewood in winter to warm up this season. It is not regret, but just looking through old photos, and there is another wave of mood. In the middle of the night, a simple and profound song condensed.
It’s not that I don’t have memories, it’s just that I deliberately erased those sad moments from my memory, and then the smile spread in the wind, spreading in the gaps, in the book, in the ink, and even in the red at the corner of my eyes, but, Why, I always feel that I am as light as dust, the dust of history, and the worthy people and things in this world, and then I don’t smile lightly, and in an instant , the street lights dimmed away, you said you were about to fall asleep, you said this was just the right temperature and emotion, right? Or did you already know how to hide deeply and accept your fate, and the dust of history turned into your determination, but, whether, this is It's over, the wind still blows silently, and you still have nothing to say. In this late night, it condenses into morning dew on the flowers, facing the laughter, gradually evaporates, and dissipates into the emptiness.
The dust of history, the ordinary years, the tiny flowers are just the moment when the slight emotion is seen through. At that moment, it condenses into water, and it is unpredictable but can no longer be guessed. It falls into the lake. With a gurgle, the lake dances You are still in a state of mind, no one speaks, just the calm lake surface and the calm lake surface have become each other's confidants, reluctant to part...
Original text: Nongge Yiwan Pen name: Planet Kingdom Image source: Toutiao Gallery
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