[If you can escape, why should you be sad]
Text: Falling snow stains dust
It was a cold and ordinary night, the wind blew through the window as usual, the door quietly opened a gap, the winter snow was lacking, and the moon was not full.
The words began to wander in the night, gathering the cold wind and the dark loneliness, so that in the early morning of midnight, the desolate loneliness, slightly began to lose control.
Regarding the article, I would rather say something casual. Casual, not with the encounter and with the flow, to not forget the original intention, adhere to the self.
And to write at will, there is no need to focus on deliberate chewing words, nor do you have to stick to anything. In fact, if you look closely, the elegance and mannerism of the early years have long been covered by life.
When the lunar calendar reaches the waxing moon, it is almost New Year's. Now the fear of the New Year is not the fear of life and death, but in the rush of time, panic and panic as if there are still many things that have not been done and not completed.
Self-deprecating at the age of running three, the dream of wanting to walk all over the great rivers and mountains of the motherland has not yet begun, the dream of giving yourself a nest has not yet come true, and there are many, many things that you want to do that have not been completed, or even started.
Reality is different from dreams.
It is not so much a lament that time is rushing, but rather a regret, a regret that everything has not been done, I have begun to grow old, the corners of my eyes have climbed fine lines, and the green silk is mixed with snow.
If I can escape, why should I be sad, perhaps sober people are the most sad, if I can live in a foggy nightmare, with the encounter, there will be no such regrets.
Soberly know their own smallness, know good or bad, know that there is something that cannot be changed. Even if many things know the ending and know that it will backfire, they still want to try the south wall before they are willing to turn back.
Others have other people's truths, I have my attachments, right and wrong, I have to go through it. Not absurd.
Author: Falling snow stained dust
A person who is accustomed to memories, a person who is accustomed to not being able to put it down, a red dust passerby who is upside down and displaced. Three thousand passers-by, ten zhang red dust, meeting you is fate, thank you for your liking.
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