On a cold, windy winter morning, my favorite is the warm sun. Opening the window, a ray of sunlight poured down, illuminating every corner, and the warmth was like a character I liked, writing a poem

On a cold, windy winter morning, my favorite is the warm sun. Open the window, a wisp of sunlight sprinkles, illuminating every corner, the warmth is like a character I like, writing a prose poem that is both true and illusory, at this moment, with a cup of tea chasing it away, the whole person is transformed into the beauty of the transcendent world...