When I turned to the circle of friends, I saw a special title: "Peddling Spring in Spring", which has three pictures, the delicate plums on the branches, the festive ice piers and the flowers dotted with the windows, the quiet picture with beautiful words, lively and novel, and meet safely.
After the year, I was one year older, and my age was long, but my heart became more and more happy and quiet. Love to walk in the path, like to listen to the sound of dew, there are long dreams on the pillow, there are unexpected adventures in the dream, often walk alone, with the eyes to measure the brilliance along the way, the years are late, recognize some grass and trees, but can not see through people's hearts.
I have seen a bunch of flowers blooming, peddling spring in the spring, which is a strange poem; and in the long alley of the city, the fireworks are gathered, and the food in all directions cannot be stopped, but it can spread out all kinds of things in the world, and there are green mountains and toasts along the way, and the eyebrows are written into books, and finally the ideal longitude and weft hills cannot be depicted.
Who doesn't want to see the sun in the clouds and see the scenery on the clouds? I haven't seen it, and after I have seen it, I just copied it and sold it, which is not surprising! Upstairs, listening to the wind and rain, laughing at the smoke and rain and red dust; outside the sky, drinking and singing, drunkenly talking about splendid years. As soon as the words were spoken, they were choked back, and it seemed that they were really old, and what they said became false.
Writing silently, I have seen bai bi stained with slight flaws, but I have not noticed it for many years, and the mud spots are stained, which cares about the sky is light and blue? What runs through the mountains and rivers is not thunder, but you, like twilight indulgence, if the dark spark is burned, a song and a song, a drunken awakening, a dream for a lifetime, the five tastes are mixed in this twist and turn of change and not moving.
In the spring, it is not only spring that is peddled, but also the ink fragrance between the fingers. The morning light knocked on the window, spread out half a roll, in the left finger right copy to nourish the heart, listen to the paper rattling, since then forget the sorrow, do not know that the old age is coming.
Electronic products to see more, eyes a little flower, people are also a little confused, need to write often. Therefore, the lintel of the lintel, the advertisement on the side of the road, and the fragments of dreams are recorded at any time, carried in the bag, taken out from time to time to turn over, accumulated more, the fragments are written into words, the beads are written, even if they cannot be published, or can become the material for reading, it is worth the trip.
I don't have the sound quality of reading, only a little rough ink, but I like to listen, open the audio, listen to the low and thick voice, recite out one beautiful text after another, like a bird song awakening spring, but also waking up the sleeping life, the sky is wide, the grass and trees are colorful, the vision is pure, let the thinker have no domain, let the walker have no boundary.
Honey, maybe you also come to me and ask: Aren't you also peddling? Yes, I'm peddling, peddling spring, and peddling future life. I'm old, and maybe I'll take a book and bask in the sun on a bench, holding a lazy cat in my arms, like another lazy me.
Taking advantage of the present, the eyes are still within reach, the brain can still remember, and the spring light is carried, reading, listening to plays and writing articles, not for the vassal style, just to live to learn from the old. The poems that have been read are contained in the heart, whispered in the mouth, copied on the desk, and then removed the bones and left the marrow, deleted the complex and simplified, turned into their own words, and became the calligraphy of friends, and so on, purely for personal hobbies.
Everyone in the world has hobbies: some people like to run in the morning, some people love to dance, some people are good at playing chess, some people are fine rubbing hemp... And my paper basket is not piled with thick text garbage, it seems to be missing a string a day, standing unsteadily, eating and sleeping, addicted, crazy and stupid.
May you sink and float in the sea of literature and meet Zhiyin!