Stand on the balcony in the morning, looking at the lush hills in the distance, and walk through the tall buildings. Just like the book says, like a running lion, wandering in the bustling city. Wander the streets.
The hill under the morning sun has not yet completely lifted the veil of mystery, the clouds are steaming and the smoke is swirling. Like a fairyland on earth, people have unlimited reverie. There is always an urge to find out.
Birds sing and dance softly in the green leaves, and it is the first time in a few years that they have heard such a pleasant bird call. The air was filled with a thick smell of green quilts and dampness. Not a tall tree, the rough trunk is somewhat mottled and withered, and it is said that it has been tempered for a long time.
The unbridled and regular canopy of trees, staggered like a canopy, is held high above the heads of pedestrians. Asaka pierced through the leaves and fell to the ground, the green leaves swaying with the wind, and the climbing tiger that had aged the dragon bell, dappled on the ground, the walls painted with their own portraits, and the microwave ripples like the ripples of the calm lake.
A gust of autumn wind swept across the wall and brushed his cheeks, and also picked up the dead leaves on the ground.
The white mist on the leaves shimmered with seven colors of light. I couldn't help but stretch out my hands and let the autumn wind slip between my fingers.
So the notes of autumn fill the delicate space it should fill in in the season it should have.
The blue sky that cannot be said to come up, floating with white clouds that are not thick, changes the posture in the deep sky, but makes people feel within reach, walking aimlessly, as if they are also appreciating this pure and comfortable world.
The eastern sky was orange-red, and the burgundy clouds were intertwined, incomparably brilliant. But it slowly faded toward the horizon, and finally became a line and disappeared into the mountain stream. The sun was getting stronger and stronger, embracing everything it could. The smog in the hill is gradually thinning, and the mist on the leaves has inadvertently turned into a pearl, instantly thrown into the embrace of the earth, and disappeared without a trace.
Autumn, the love of my heart, my only one, just hugs me like this.
How can I praise you my fall.