When we grow up, we become thorough and healthy people in the world. Following the crowd, the army walked through the vicissitudes of life, walking forward with a slump, surrounded by others, pushing forward in panic. We are drowned in the bustling and crowded life, and we have n

When we grow up, we become thorough and healthy people in the world. Following the crowd, the army walked through the vicissitudes of life, walking forward with a slump, surrounded by others, pushing forward in panic.

We are drowned in the bustling and crowded life, and we have no model of our own.

We all feel that we are so tired, and we feel that human affairs are so difficult and dangerous. Life has no self and no sense of the value and fun of life.

In fact, you slow down and groan without any illness, read books, write, close your eyes and stay alone for a few hours, think about the people and things you lost before, be sentimental, and groan without any illness, you will feel that these few hours belong to your true self.

In this warm sunshine, there is clean air, a bright study, open floor-to-ceiling windows, flowing curtains, a balcony that can be seen from afar, and a comfortable rotating chair. We close our eyes and miss the people and things that we threw on the path full of flowers.

At this time, your heart will be very quiet. You will remember that when you were a child, in the countryside, when the sun sets, there was a livestock returning home. It was walking slowly with its fine steps, with a peaceful expression. The afterglow of dusk hit it, as beautiful as an oil painting.

Open a book and listen to countless poets’ melodious nagging. At this time, I feel that the poet’s whining is really a clear stream, which temporarily frees himself from the bonds and dangers of the world and has a greater space for him to see.

You may see a golden rice in the suburbs that was forgotten by farmers in the fields, you will see its stubbornness until the end of autumn, you will feel that it has been missed and forgotten, and you cannot enter the desolation of the warm barn with billions of brothers.

You will moan about its beauty without any illness, fictionalizing that it has been cultivated, planted, embraced by the warm sun, kissed the wind, and watered by the clear canal water. It has worked hard to grow and strived to produce rich ears of grain, but now it is left to look down in this quiet field, standing alone in the cold wind.

Although it was forgotten by farmers, it was embraced by hungry birds, cherishing it and picking out the ears of grain that it had worked hard to grow up one by one, and slowly ate them one by one.