Dreaming again, the dream seems to be back to a long time, some small pieces of people and things flying and entangled in the dream, and when the dream wakes up, all the traces are scattered like fireworks.
I always go back to the dreams that have not yet been cold, there is joy, there is loneliness, there is panic, and there is also the warmth that lurks in the heart! The sky in the north became cold enough, and the water in the lotus pot was frozen.
The forecast said there would be snow, so he sat in the doorway and waited for the little white to come. The life of the woman, the story of each journey, lays the groundwork for the ending, so that most of the encounters in the world end with loss.
Nowadays, when a person is cooking tea in the Shu country, a cup of black tea is fragrant, the past is slightly longer, many stories are two flowers blooming, the heavens are different, those who have flowed in the years or sad or happy, deep and shallow hidden in the footer of the day, and then disappeared without a trace. In the heated and harmonious room, I remembered the days with the monks, and I was like smoke and smoke.