Conventions - essay essays

Life is short, as if there were only one spring in four seasons.

I was speaking in words, listening, and the melancholy melody sounded in my ears, as if I had returned to a year. The plan of the year lies in the spring, but it is the title of summer, and the shadow of autumn is even more intense.

Perhaps, you don't understand, just like autumn. Those leaves will transform into a season of life in the air in an instant to spin out the most beautiful arc, like a piece of fallen leaves, after careful carving, slowly become a texture, but also left indelible, gradually become some indelible, can not be dissolved, but intoxicating, sinking to the bottom of the valley.

Just like that, quietly leave in your and my nostalgia.

Autumn, what is waiting for a season, is sad in the cry, is not a wandering, a horse Pingchuan.

It is heavy, and after losing it, it is a helpless cry, and I will see your figure as soon as I look back.

Maybe you have rarely remembered it, rarely can you think of it in such a silent time.

Do you remember? At the time we first met, we were like two different personalities, strangers to each other.

Remember that? That day. When we are happy, there will be a faint hint of pity that will drift by. However, it is just as unpleasant.

We rarely remember a song, what song you sing, I can think of you, but I don't know what you are thinking, only every gentle greeting or distance around you, I know that this is our last agreement.