The night is still coming...

(i)

In the silent night, who walked past my window and tapped on my window?

Occasionally can not sleep, bored, then there is rain to watch the rain, there is wind to listen to the wind.

When there is rain, the raindrops knock on the tin roof, the rain is lively, and the drizzle is lonely.

I like the breeze the most, open the window, feel the wind feathers sweeping my cheeks, stroking my hair, watching the purple pendants on the curtains dance softly, the crystal beads colliding, clanging and crunching.

Tonight, with no rain or wind, I listened to the faint chanting of the little bugs outside the window.

The music came from somewhere far away, or between the grass, or by the stream, or from a corner under the window, in a small hole, for a moment, like the baton in the conductor's hand suddenly flicking lightly, following the arc, the air, the sound, the smell, all the elements that belonged to the night were intertwined, the hectic mixture, the ambiguous collision.

Woke up in the night.

Imagine, on the delicate blades of grass, the dewdrops, the deep night, the fluorescent dots, the frogs right, so many happy elves, meet, hang out.

Small, and contented.

If you can incarnate as one of them, even if it is just a busy little ant, it is a luxury.

The beaded curtain flickers, hey, a curtain of dreams, where is the direction.

Concentrate and sniff the night incense.

......

(ii)

When sleeping, I like not to pull the curtains, the opposite is the garden, no one lives, the windows are very large, and there is always a bright moonlight dangling on a sunny day, which makes the room more dark. Sometimes the stars hanging low outside the window, sometimes the beautiful silhouettes of the treetops in the distance, this calm picture is my favorite old look.

The tea on the bedside case, a small handful of melon seeds, the clock is still not in a hurry.

Far away, is there a red wine and green, a fragrant sideburn, a beautiful dance, and a light-colored champagne shaking in the glass.

My choice, always suited to myself, simple, not much thought.

The fish is the demon of the night, and the delicate words, like a poppy, are seductive and exuberant.

Dancing is the unruly prodigal son, the jumping thoughts, who are crazy.

Long nights, so many sleepless people, we do not intersect, each wandering in their own world.

So many independent individuals, in the bright and clear flickering light, or tired or excited faces, who are waiting for you, they are all looking around.

Midnight, closed eyes, holding the phone, fell into a deep sleep. The bed was huge and I lay casually. When I woke up, I found that my feet were lying on the pillow, the remote control was cushioned under me, and I still had a few pieces of melon seed peel on my arms, but I slept so soundly.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ups and downs, not into my heart.

It's like when I laugh and think I'm happy, I think the world isn't sad.