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It's like reading a book, the book is full of tragicomedy in the world, but when you look at it, you forget the end, the beginning, and even the author. Only those ups and downs of the plot are like stars flashing in your vicissitudes of life.
Just like traveling, it often means the end of the trip when you arrive at your destination. The distant mountains and near the water are nothing more than an ordinary touch of greenery, a few waves. What is worth recalling is the romantic and endless reverie during the journey.
It's like romance is a feeling, not an outcome. It doesn't matter if the spring flowers wither and the autumn moon sleeps, but what we really care about is the flowers in our hearts. It's like when we sit on a bus and think about how good it would be if there was no end to this bus.
Just like friendship, what makes it invincible is never a promise, let alone a utilitarian trade-off. Tribulation and common quality, only after the exercise of the eventful years, can it be indestructible and long-lasting.
is like love, whether the ending is Lao Yan or the positive result, what can make you feel heartache or sweetness is often the process of two people, not the destination. It's like a prince and princess in a fairy tale, who only write about falling in love and holding hands, and as for what happened next, there is no follow-up.
Just like life, after achieving fame, you will inevitably be overwhelmed. It's like there is no tallest mountain in the world, and there is no eternal glory. And what you say the most in your memoirs is definitely not the glittering medals, but the long wind and rain on the journey.
It's like the sky, blue and clear, vast and deep. What can shock and move you is not the sun or the moon, but your gaze for exploration. In the tunnel through time and space, there is a vast expanse of talking about Qinghui.
On the road, the fragrance of flowers is on the road, youth is on the road, life is on the road, everything is on the road, so please don't have to gallop fast, you can go to the other side of the end. Because there will be a mirror on the other side, and you will only see your own yesterday, not tomorrow.
Maybe you are on the road of laughter, loneliness, happiness, and sorrow. But as long as you're on the road, you're at your most beautiful. Because you are walking out of the fragrant and gorgeous chapter with solid steps, the glorious years will eventually bloom!!
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I. Ice Heart.
Looking in the mirror and looking, the person in the mirror is not me. This is a doubt! in the classroom.
I listened to the lectures, walked and talked with my classmates in the courtyard, and I walked around the world from morning to night, and everyone recognized me as mine: whether it was really me is also a question!
It is also a question whether the me in everyone's eyes and the me in my own heart are the same me!
I sit alone at night, I wake up from a dream, and there is an occasional minute and a second in the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.
It is also a question of whether I, who feel that I have unspeakable circumstances and thoughts, who am in the classroom, and who am in the classroom, and who are moving around the world, are the same me. This question is always a question! These two I, can never be analyzed.
If there is no hope of analyzing him, one must hope to unite him. I'm all around the world! In times of distraction and worry, please don't forget me sitting alone at night!
I'm sitting alone at night! In the silence and clarity, please don't forget me who is around the world! Remembering each other! Phase traction! Hold hands and move towards the future!
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It seems to be a little late, but the computer is still lit up although I don't know what to do. There is still such a strange or familiar melody in the buckle**. It seems that at some point the thought of you has made my life no longer so peaceful as water, and I would like to know what kind of temperature is in your arms.
In the time that has been gradually forgotten by us, can we find those sincere touches that we have sincerely. The simple care when we don't know each other, maybe at a certain time we will suddenly miss those shining brilliance in life, many times we don't want to love, but too long has made us forget how to approach someone. Does its own thorn scratch those fragile hearts?
Or maybe the awkwardness that has been spreading between you and me for too long makes us not know how to break this silent distance.
A smile or some kind of voice is hidden. Farther and farther away, like a clown mask, no temperature.
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This question is too broad, let's go to the red sleeves and take a look, there are many classifications on it.
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When sending, pay attention to discovery.
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As far back as I can remember, the winters of the past were so cold, many times colder than the winters of the present. Especially in my youth, every winter, the old north wind that counts nine midwinters, the goose feather snow in the sky, the old people call it the north wind smoke and snow, the climate where the drops of water become ice, how did I and we survive, now I think about it, it is like a myth, I didn't freeze to death in those winters and even I feel lucky.
At that time, the ice cream flowers bloomed on the four palm-sized single-glazed windows of our house. The old-fashioned house I live in has only four glass windows on the south side facing the sun, and the upper window pavilion is pasted window paper. Every winter, in order to protect us from the cold, my mother led us to choose a warm day, make paste, and slip through the cracks of the window.
Mom said: The hole with a big needle nose can penetrate the big wind, and it must be tightly pasted; It's cold outside, it's hot inside, and the ice cream tweed is on the glass window. In this way, every day in addition to going to school, naughty, at home on the kang head cat winter.
At that time, the only view from the house was these four small glass windows, and our vision was really narrow. When the ice cream flowers bloom, you can't see anything. In the harsh winter when the snow closes the door, the heating of the home, in addition to the stove or stuffy stove for burning the kang, is a standing stove connected by several sections of iron rolled stoves.
At that time, I had a lot of time to concentrate on the beautiful ice cream flowers blooming in this small window. Because of my illness and disability, every morning, my parents would not let me get up to make the stove, so I had the bad problem of lying in the hot quilt, tucking the corners of the quilt, and getting up late. I don't know how my parents are sad about life, but the pleasing ice cream flowers in my eyes really relieve my pain and relieve my worries.
The ice cream flower is so beautiful, it is really a precious work of art that nature has given to people. From the bottom of my heart, I was amazed by the wonders of nature. You see, the ice cream flowers that bloom every day, the ice cream flowers that bloom on every piece of glass, are never the same, and there is no suspicion of cloning and plagiarism.
It is extraordinary in a variety of forms, styles, colors, categories, and versions, and it is beautiful. Sometimes, it blooms furry, like the fur of a polar bear, because it is too cold and the frost on the window is too thick; Sometimes like beautiful anchovy bamboo, like celery leaves; Sometimes like clouds in the sky, sometimes like waves in the sea, sometimes like dreamy and indescribable strange patterns, no matter how good a painter is, it is difficult to depict this crystal like snow, ghostly ice flowers!
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We are like two broken faces on the glass window, dealing with the relationship between the two people in the most resolute way.
I often feel in a trance, how can two people who are still together suddenly go their separate ways, a short distance.
It's the length of the end of the world that doesn't see each other. At the end of school, I looked at the vast sea of people and began to look for the cooked pieces.
What if I forgot to find the clothes in time? It's no longer your who, who's still there.
Is it obligated to accompany you to the end of the world?
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