I have long liked the phrase "flowers fall without words, people are as light as chrysanthemums", and I have always thought that a gentle woman is indifferent. I don't ask for much glory and wealth, nor do I expect any great power, but I just want to live a plain life and faintly come and go in this world.
After a busy day, at midnight, gently touch the soft heartstrings of the petals of the years, concentrate on the lakeside of the text, feel free to let yourself have a mood story, a wisp of heart fragrance, a period of years of grinding into a line of small notes, a life of smoke and rain carrying dreams and happiness of the harbor, by the texture of the text to precipitate the past memories.
Many people say that women who love words are intelligent and sharp. She is infected with the unique fragrance of words, so she has a gentle and delicate, sensitive and kind heart, a poem can make her think and pluck the heartstrings, a euphemistic song can make her body and mind intoxicated, and she can't help but dance her own charm.
An autumn leaf can make her sad and sigh, a gully of water can cause her to sigh a thousand times, and a petal of red will touch her thoughts about her past feelings. But she is not willing to be eroded by the wind and frost of the years, and on the night when the hustle and bustle settles the dust, she will still carefully read her favorite books under the quiet lamp.
Read a favorite prose, listen to a beloved song, in order to repair the increasingly rough tired soul, so that you still maintain that gentle and pleasant, still with wisdom and wisdom in front of the world. She does not necessarily have a feminine and moving face, but she must have the unique mind and spiritual style of an elegant woman, just like the deep and long green poignant grass, and like a shallow mountain spring.
The intellectual woman is as bright as water, her thinking is always clear, and she will never let you see her inner turmoil. The passage of time, the falter of the years, the past that was once beautifully longed for, and the sudden sorrow of family affection and death will make her mood rise and fall at any time.
In the quiet night where no one disturbs, everything is silent, she will play a piece of music she likes, taste a cup of tea, enter her inner world with a clear as water heart, casually stroll on the shore of words, listen to her true voice, and open the sadness that is entangled in her heart.
Thinking also jumps with the words flowing from the fingertips, accompanied by the flying of the fingertips, and the heart is soothed with the clouds between the hearts, so that the wisps of feelings that have been hidden in the heart for a long time are deeply lurking in the words. The troubles brought about by the heaviness of past life will be relaxed.
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