Only the color of snow lingered in the air, falling into the desolation of the ground

"Xian Cong Shadow Loose Snow Return" | text: Aibo Qingshan

"Only the color of snow lingered in the air and fell into the desolation of the ground"

/01/

Reading late until the people on the road are cold, the fog that has not dissipated in the daytime has become more and more thick, but at such an age, they are more and more obsessed with such a hobby, indisputable, with a bustling emotion, silently admiring shu's intentions. The misty distant shadow softly rubbed the orange shuttles on the fine branches, not half asleep, but with inexplicable joy, soft and bright.

If the unassuming words are like butterflies dancing in love with flowers, the drunken fears of the human world that are known are evenly sprinkled like condiments in the deep and fiery burning of this water. Missing is a disease, and this infinite torment and panic is like entering the customs and exorcising demons, and it is always impossible to be as free as in life.

The result of the cold to the bone is like a dream-like and more lonely silence, imagining that it is like those idlers in the book singing and dancing to the wine, but they are wronged like a child against this unbearable result. Forcing yourself to enjoy more interest, those passions from sunrise to sunset, you can still know that what you are most looking forward to is not the bleakness of the future but the desolate and sweet return.

Facing this delicate city shadow flowing in all directions, those neon magnificences can still feel shy, how they want to leave this place that is not a pursuit as soon as possible.

Maybe there has been no passion for so many years, this is the time when I feel that the drops of cold that I have suffered silently cross my cheeks, and a dim gaze has done enough determination in my heart. The cultivation of feelings is imperceptible, even if you pay all, it is only more and more fragile and helpless, where there is still the original freedom.

This unique hobby is like a clear dream, trembling in the corners of history, sometimes awake, sometimes crazy, sometimes restrained, sometimes indulgent. I don't force myself to like it, but I always feel some inextricable connection, and it seems that only when I am hurt do I understand whether this is a spiritual encounter or just an empty space burned out by fate.

/02/

The excitement and cheerful imagery is bit by bit, is it only the appearance of this side of the corner rhyme, and the human ambition that involves the years is difficult to hide.

The warm temperature swallowed from the bottom of the heart, the emotions in this solemn shadow were cold and clear, and the ice hemp coming from under the feet made the loneliness around him like other people's novels, without sympathy for the loss.

The unacrivaled Cong Ying was swaying with lush spring feelings, and if no one reminded him, he really thought that this was the spring of reincarnation flying with the wind. The snow in winter has never been infatuated with your appearance, but I always feel sad that I can't stay with you for a long time.

Why pretend to be happy, the fog spread like a stream of rivers that is frankly stated suddenly has a strong and strong bitterness, rubbing the hair of the north wind, the inexplicable bitterness in the heart, and the sincere mood is low with the result of not regretting it. As long as you are happy every day and night, you will still go to the soup and the fire, this heavy oath is difficult to complete, only the snow hovers in the air, falling to the desolation of the ground.

The lonely and sentimental life repeats in the search up and down, the ordeal that torments the noble ideals all his life, the cold and lonely, like the sigh on the thick dust of the dead vine, expecting the beauty to no longer be twilight, melodious and stoic to bloom in the golden year.

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author

Pen name: Aibo Qingshan, no matter how hard and tired life is, it is also worth us to write and sing, and the creation comes from thinking, only those who continue to think will rub out the spark and inspiration of creation.

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