On a lonely autumn night, the orange light is particularly warm. Outside the curtain, sparse raindrops knocked on the sycamore leaves, one drop, one drop, like an inconspicuous note, blowing off the dust at the bottom of the heart. Life, like a quietly flowing stream, drifts on the surface of the water with memories that go around and around, twisting and turning several times, and finally being ruthlessly washed away by the flow of time.
However, are those heart marks that are imprinted in between really like quicksand, floating and sinking several times, and then disappearing without a trace? Outside the window, the rain was getting heavier and heavier. This autumn, the rain is raging. In the yard, the proud rose flower, under the relentless wash of the rain, was finally broken. A happy look, too extravagant, will sting oneself.
Got up and went outside. In the early autumn season, it is somewhat chilly. The cold wind mixed with the rain suddenly passed, and I couldn't help but shiver. After a week of cold, I didn't see the slightest improvement, but I still stubbornly refused to take medicine. Sometimes, such willfulness will hurt others and hurt themselves.
I can't be a cute woman in the end, and I still selfishly insist on uneasiness. Reaching out, the cold raindrops fell on the palm of the hand, a chill of confusion. The moisture is coming, I don't know whose eyes will be swept away in the next moment? A long time ago, the girl who liked the light rain, on the balcony in the evening, depicted a sunny blue smile after the rain. A long time later, this woman who listened to the rain, in the middle of the cold rain, could no longer remember the scenery at the beginning.
Streamers of light, years of lightning. The beauty of those longings eventually turned into an unintentional extravagance, and the pure white smile withered above the clouds of yesterday. I thought that as long as I worked hard enough, I would become the woman I longed for, warm and shallow. Knowing the nature of nature, some things have long been embedded in the bones, and acupuncture is not healed.
Cold fingertips tapping on the keyboard, familiar and strange feelings are all intertwined, very cold, but with the warmth of the silk, flowing thoughts blooming in the dark night. I have heard people say that a woman who is afraid of cold has a cold heart. Xu is because his heart is too cold, so he is particularly greedy for the temperature of the text. The interweaving of sorrow and joy, the entanglement of cold and warmth.
When you get used to this kind of warmth, you can no longer give up your cool nature. I want to change my shallow mood again, but in the end I am not enough to be relaxed. For a long time, I have been walking alone in the red dust with such a lonely posture. From now on, there will be a lonely woman, and she will be able to do it and be safe. You know, she smiled. You don't understand, and neither does she.
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