A touch of spring is amazing, and the broken rain is counting the red

2020年4月15日   |   by 科姆龙

It is not too early or too late for spring to return to the earth. The rain powder washes away the dust, the smoke clouds scatter into light gauze, the mountains faint and the trees faint, and the flowers bloom golden yellow or light pink purple, which surprises the wiping Green and also makes the world flexible.
Don’t disturb the speed of time, muddy and rainy all the way, crossing the fields and rivers, slowly flowing water, there are a few duckweed, there are also a few bamboo leaves falling with the wind, half is dead yellow and half is green. No one can tell why, but I know that the world is unpredictable.
The eyes on the mask of the passers-by were only on, being cautious and cold. The cold of returning to spring, with cold rain, though they were of the same kind, they couldn’t feel the enthusiasm and warmth they deserved me. Passing by and walking away is just like the curse of loneliness and loneliness in life. No one knows when this situation will continue, but I believe that one day, with the temperature and warmth, they will always return to the world.
There are fragmentary replies to some messages in the mobile phone. No matter what kind of content it is, the existence of each other is also a kind of comfort. Distant or near, simple words, casual words, there is always a rare peace of mind and comfort. My hair was stained with fog and water. It seemed that I couldn’t make the right choice to hide or keep walking. There was no reason to stop, because there was no place to hide from the rain and there was no reason to continue, because there is no place to hide ahead. The disease of difficulty in choosing will bother everyone. Reason is still Impulse. I think the best choice is to continue. At least the spring is moving along the way, and at least the unknown in the distance always has various possibilities.
People who are accustomed to dwelling narrowly, though yearning for the outside world, no longer walk casually, maybe they don’t find themselves in that square inch, but imprisoned his fragile heart and struggling self.
This year will be engraved in the long river of history. We are destined to be the waves dotted at this moment, just like the waves blown by the breeze, and also like the rainwater spreading Ruo Chen, which will exist, but I don’t know whether that drop is you or my scattered heart, without trace.

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