Original works ‖ Platform

1.

It was late at night, and the car was still parked on the lonely platform.

The platform is small and small, and the name is unfamiliar. I guess you won't find its marker on the map. I have walked through many of these platforms without remembering their names for long; like many people who have rubbed shoulders, I have not remembered my indifferent countenance.

　　

- There are some things that are simply not worth remembering. Or are we deliberately ignoring it?

2.

The road ahead always inexplicably stopped running.

When did someone abruptly extinguish the bright lights in the car? Repeatedly, fate hid in the shadows, silent about the truth.

If all treks are ultimately for parting, who can afford to pay for whom.

3.

The car is sometimes fast, and the scenery outside the window is fleeting.

Sometimes it's very slow, even docked at the fork, as if making a choice. I think it wasn't because of this that the car arrived at the next platform late, but because of it, there was another arrangement.

Sooner or later, it was a good time to never leave the design track.

4.

Cars come and go.

From intense to tired; change the scene. Intense again, and tired again. The traces of warmth and cold gradually faded not far from me, and the world suddenly lost a lot of weight.

It should not be attributed to its illusory expansion like soap foam, the living and the walker are the same.

5.

Similar passers-by; similar past episodes.

Even the ending is surprisingly similar. Deep in the road, some colorful figures slowly lost their warm colors. Looking around, strange faces gathered next to each other.

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6.

I was stunned.

There is no need to travel day and night, pursuing those entangled fates; there is no need to remember that they have not said goodbye, and the infatuation that they have told in the clouds of smoke is very light. Calm down, listen to the wheels toss and turn across the tracks, and watch many chaotic shadows retreat backwards. Some of the old dreams used for warmth will eventually dissipate over time and the dust settles.

——There is no dust in the world, and because people's hearts have their own strengths, they let the flowers bloom elsewhere and stagnate in the scattered places.

7.

Chao Shang held hands, and the sunset was already contradictory.

The joy of rubbing shoulders has become a life-shrinking dispersion in an instant. And these discrete, but we can never get around the wounds of the past. In this pain, our water-like years have quietly disappeared on the road of wind and dust.

——The past is as light as smoke, and it needs to be dispersed until the end. 　

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The distant snow, also known as the snow swirling. Web freelance writer, a woman who is mixed with joy in original poetry.

Thank you for reading, I hope these words are like the light of fireworks, can bring you a touch of warmth that is worth your stop and gaze.