【Strange flowers bloom, when to return】
Author: The Walking Narrator
Two weeks ago, I smelled the message of spring in the wind. This spring breeze is as proud as ever, blowing on the world and blowing wantonly and leisurely.
Looking at it again today, the old peach tree in front of the door has already received the order of this east wind, and the pink blossoms bloom on the head of the tree.
People who grew up by the sea are born with a little freedom. The hustle and bustle of the city always contradicts the beauty in the heart. What the shackles can't hold back is freedom, saying that you don't love this world is really too high, and if you think about it, it is half a foot outside the world, half a foot in the red dust.
The epidemic ravaged my city, a thin mask became a thick wall, and I stood on both sides of the wall with the people I wanted to see, and it was difficult to reach.
The suppressed emotions are like tens of millions of pounds of heavy stones pressed on the heart, even if the flowers outside the window are blooming and the breeze is blowing, it cannot reduce half a thread of boredom.
Lately, I have been always imagining, imagining the future life, thinking about when I can get rid of this hustle and bustle and live a life of small cain.
I always dreamed that I was holding an umbrella, looking at the flowing water under the bridge in jiangnan with apricot blossoms and smoke, and was moved by raindrops. Rainy days are the pouring out of heaven, it is a pale empathy, people are sad and happy and do not communicate, bustling people, can not stand the joy and sorrow.
Collect your umbrella and enter the house. Patting the sticky drizzle on his body, he walked to the window and gently pushed it open, and was greeted by the smoothness of the rain washing off the dust, which was unique to the freshness after a light rain in spring.
Looking away, I saw the eaves flowing down the opposite eaves, belonging to Jiangnan, a beautiful story.
I didn't like the glare of white light, so I lit the candle in the small oil lamp, and the dim light was like my favorite sunset and sunrise, which lit up the whole cabin.
The hut is not big, but it has a very ideal living feeling, under the shell of the green brick Dewa, in the hut, there are light yellow lamps, small wooden tables, small wooden stools, and some other things I prefer, always have to be natural.
Life is short, on this road, not everyone can go far, but always have to be steady and live a safe life. Four seasons in the morning and dusk, three meals for two people, a lamp like a bean.
There is the joy of walking alone, there is no concern in the heart, and it is more frank to walk. Unrestrained, free as the wind, see all the mountains and rivers, and walk and sing.
Can't stand the loneliness and loneliness, on the road may meet another person who can walk in the red dust with you, love or best friend, sincerely invite him to share the four seasons with me, see the mountains and rivers unharmed, the sea and the river, the years are peaceful.
Strange flowers bloom, when will they return? Stepping on the red dust is the way home.
About the Author
Born in the walking narrator family of the Waxing Moon, he is free and uninhibited, but he wishes to tread all over the mountains and rivers and be the narrator of the sorrows and joys of this world.