Twilight thoughts

Source: Public number Dragon only

Author: Nanzai Resident

When the sun sets, the day's life tends to come to an end, a bunch of thoughts pull down the curtain, a face of exhaustion is blurred by the night, and all desires are flat. The dimness of the light obscures everything, and the hazy mood creates an atmosphere of beauty. The gap in time dilutes some of people's desires, but also breeds others.

When dusk falls, home is a refuge from everything. Shadows, night, horror, evil... The unknowable was blocked, and none of them could step through the door. The warmth of the whole room, the smell of oil and meat; the exchange of wine glasses and teacups, the joy of a full meal; the piety of faith, the joy of release; the tired bath, the familiar voice of relatives; the laziness of the body, the soft love words, are all the special background given to the home by dusk, and the tender people deeply appreciate these pleasures. Mark lay on the warm, fluffy bed, snuggled up to his son, who snuggled up to her. Mother and child are holding books in their hands, and each is enjoying the joy of coming from books. Although lying down and reading is a bad problem, she has already unknowingly transplanted this bad disease to her son. Now, their mother and son are infected with this bad disease, and they have all been punished by this bad habit, and they all wear myopic glasses, but no one can change the hobby of lying in bed at dusk, as if lying in the dusk reading is a luxury relaxation. He likes to play with the computer at dusk, quietly passing the time across the screen alone. Or go downstairs to play cards, which are his two ways of entertaining after dusk. Over time, i developed a habit. If it wasn't dusk, he wouldn't have this leisure and was always busy.

Twilight thoughts can be unbridled. She looked into the twilight of the night and couldn't help but think of the firefly again. A small firefly, still able to wait in the same place one night and one night, shines to its lovers in the night, loyal. Like this firefly, she is faithfully attached to her memories. Mark likes to buy a variety of beauty underwear, and then, at dusk, can show off the hidden beauty without restraint. Twilight's thoughts are the most freewheeling. I can't see the sun, but I think of grace; I can't see the moon, but I think of loneliness; I can't see the blue sky, but I think of the ocean; I can't see the trees, but I think of the forest; I can't see the lake, but I think of the thick emotion; I can't see the water, but I think of tenderness; I can't see the mountains, but I think of masculinity; I can't see the wind, but I think of rain and snow; I can't see the flowers, but I think of the smiling face; I can't see the roses, but I think of love; I can't see the birds, but I think of the cage... Seeing a woman, thinking of her husband; seeing a man, thinking of his lover; seeing a child, thinking of his mother; seeing an old man, thinking of his son; seeing an orphan, thinking of his desolation; thinking of an abandoned child, thinking of his wandering; seeing a group of children, thinking of their happiness; seeing a student, thinking of the future; seeing a sister, thinking of siblings; seeing a concubine, thinking of harmony; seeing a couple, thinking of harmony; seeing a couple, thinking of first love; seeing a marriage, thinking of a run-in; seeing a dying breath, thinking of a coffin; seeing a life, Think of the long; see death, think of the cycle; see the car, think of safety, think of running, think of tiredness, and think of attachment. Mark's mind wandered like this at dusk.

Mark's eyes had been sleepy lately. It seems that there is no good rest, it seems to be caused by reading for a long time, and it seems to be a syndrome manifested by poor health. There had been a few times when everything suddenly blurred in front of her eyes, and she subconsciously felt that she might be blind. Terrified, she stood silently for a few minutes, giving no one the symptoms she had repeated twice. She went to the ophthalmology department, and the doctor said that the optic nerve was caused by high fatigue. The doctor told her not to read books and not to play with computers. However, books are her spiritual food, and what can she do without reading them? Without the book, her quiet life is even more lonely, and the chaotic characters in the book can accompany her through countless lonely days and nights. Without books, her days are more empty; without books, her state of mind is even more helpless; all her life is intimately related to books. It can even be said that without books, there would be no her today. Every time she encounters a problem in life, she has to go to the book to find a way to solve it; every time she encounters a knot, she also goes to the book to find a comforting sentence, and she can also find peace and peace of mind from the book. She is like a devout nun who walks in search of paths, living both on earth and away from all the strife of the world. Wandering quietly in the ocean of knowledge or leaning against the harbor of love, she only likes these two realms, likes to dock in one of them. If she can't read a book because of sore eyes, or can't face the computer, it is undoubtedly giving up her most beloved things. She lay quietly on the bed, quietly waiting for her eyes to heal. She suddenly remembered many blind people and realized how difficult their lives should be, especially what Helen had shown her. She is an easily moved person, as long as she can't do it herself, what others can do will make her impressed.

Mark could only lie quietly with his eyes closed to avoid eye fatigue and blindness again. As a result, a heavy shadow appeared in front of the eyes, tenderness mixed with despair, and tenderness permeated with care. Suddenly it is clearly presented in front of the eyes, and suddenly it is far away into a myth. Obviously it was a story that happened yesterday, and suddenly it felt like centuries apart; it was obviously an indelible memory, and it was afraid of memories; it was obvious that it was swirling every day and night, but there was only silence; it was obvious that it had chosen a heavy nothingness, and it could not escape the shackles. It occurred to Mac that if she was blind and could no longer see any warm shadows, only darkness, she couldn't help but shiver, but thankfully she had preserved so much warmth. When Mark felt the solemnity of her memories, she thought of Duchamp, who was as dashing as the clouds. Like a leisurely cloud, swimming slowly, swimming there, it is all leisurely. He could swim through any situation, so Duchamp said that his life was full of regrets. She also fantasized about being like a carefree cloud, floating nowhere is not the destination, no need to look back at the way and the way to go, and no fear of losing direction and not finding the way home. But once the path of life is chosen, there will be no more choice like a leisurely cloud, and she cannot live like Duchamp.

She suddenly thought that although she had a pair of eyes, she could transform them into two pairs. A pair of eyes used to live is to see the road, to see people or to see things, so these eyes are material. With the eyes of the road, it is necessary to see only the shape, direction, trend or smoothness of the road, without considering the material of the road, the strength of the road or the short length of life. With the eyes of people, we only see the height of people, fat and thin, beautiful and ugly, and do not have to see people's personality, temperament, temperament, heart, soul. With the eyes of looking at things, only look at the surface of things, the merits of right and wrong, the end of things, do not have to consider the meaning of things and the crux of the problem. Reading a book with these eyes only sees the things of the text, and does not have to consider the background behind the words. Then these eyes are very ordinary eyes, everyone has it, everyone uses it; these eyes are also the eyes of life, without it, life will be dark. If everyone is content with the first pair of eyes, the world is chaotic, ignorant, fragmented, meaningless, vulgar, shallow. She thought of another pair of eyes, the eyes of the mind, used to tap into the depth and breadth of the mind, which belonged to the spiritual realm. Thinkers, for example, are good at using the second pair of eyes. Writers, artists, and even all scientists have to use two pairs of eyes. Through the first pair of eyes, understand the appearance of things, and then settle in the second pair of eyes to reveal the essence of things and social problems. Someone used a second pair of eyes, and then the world became clear, sharp, profound, vivid, and all-encompassing. There is a distinction between people, a depth between thought and thought, and a qualitative difference between books and books. The so-called good books are the books of wisdom excavated with the second pair of eyes, and they read like the communication of the soul rather than the dialogue of language.

Schopenhauer divided writers into three categories: meteors, planets, and stars. The lifespan of a meteor is only fleeting, like a fleeting flower, fleeting. Planets, closer to us, last longer than meteors, and are brighter than stars. "But they will soon fade away, and their brilliance is only through the help of others, and the impact is only on the pedestrians on the same road." The star, "clinging to space, shines its own light, maintaining the same influence on all times." Because they have no parallax and do not deform with the change of our views, they belong to the whole universe, not to a system like others. Because the stars are so high, their brilliance will not shine in the eyes of the world for many years. Mark had activated her second pair of eyes, and she thought of meteors, planets, stars! Perhaps, Mark is crawling hard in the direction of meteors, planets, stars!