If you're okay, it's sunny

Time is like water, always speechless. If you're okay, it's sunny

- Leaves

When I saw this sentence elsewhere, I groaned for a long time, and I inexplicably felt a warmth and touch.

Sometimes a sentence is worth a thousand words, and it is enough to warm all the desolation and indifference in the heart.

I've always wanted to be a quiet walker,

Guard yourself in the deepest red dust, keep the initial excitement and joy.

Or get stuck in a year of light and shadow and look at those faint old dreams.

Time is like a glass of still water, still deep and can still flow deeply,

However, this mood has nothing to do with the wind and moon, and the water has passed away in a panic.

Standing at the crossroads of time, looking back at the beauty and gentleness that has been walked.

Many people, many things, many longings and longings that were once full of flowers,

Still slowly flowing through the long river of years, and silently going back.

Taking stock of every mood text, more or less revealing a faint melancholy and heaviness,

There is also an unwarranted pity and confusion.

Reaching out, the water-colored time quicksand poured from between his fingers, like a delicate and determined butterfly.

No matter how you clench your hands, and no matter how much you try to hold on to the years of your life that have never been desolate,

Youth is like a feast for the city, with heavy makeup and bright makeup, and a luxurious and low-key ending.

Those green and beautiful greenery are still the deepest and truest sweetness and pain in the heart.

Often, I will receive a phone call or text message from a friend when I don't expect it.

There is no need for too many words, and there is no need for too many greetings and hypocrisy.

A few faint greetings or blessings can make people breed countless wonderful and touching.

Listen to the soft or muffled voice on the other end of the phone,

Casually chat a few words, know that each other is okay, and smile at each other, which is enough.

Have become accustomed to such a day, a person, a book, a cup of tea,

In those faint songs, see all the stories and plots that have been scattered one after another.

I know that all the applause and applause is nothing more than a nothingness of wind and snow.

In the morning and evening of the sunrise and the moon setting, the silent number of flowers bloomed and the wind passed.

I am only where I am, waiting for the warmest moment of my life,

Wait for a pair of hands to hold me with happiness and tenderness.

The world is full of things, and time is speechless,

The so-called obsession may be only a delusion, and the so-called arrival is only the end.

And youth, how like a grand firework, fragile and so easy to wither.

No matter how beautiful and exquisite the splendor is, it is just a glimpse of the horror.

How can the past that passes with the wind be carved more and more constantly by the flowing water?

Thousands of times looking back, still can't remember the past years,

No matter how much stinginess and complexity there is, it will eventually return to authenticity and blandness.

And you and I, it is too late to lay a foreshadowing for ourselves, to set a direction for ourselves,

Thorns and frustration burst out of the air, forcing us to nowhere to retreat.

Just wait for the empty flowers to bloom into a half sigh, and the desolation will salvage the memory of the untouched by the moonlight.

Life is endless, red dust is endless.

Only one journey for one understanding, only one journey for one experience, and so on.

Just like the quicksand in the palm of your hand, you can't hold the charm and coldness, and you can't hold the fingertip wound into a grave.

I like to silently read "fireworks are not cut", like such a fad to the extreme of decadence.

Just a few words like this can see people's eyes full of desolation and loneliness.

I'm not a good expression of emotions and thoughts, and I don't pile words all over the page.

I was just bright and sad, and the wind was as clear as water.

Sighing at the flowers that once had so many watery and light flowers,

Now there are only half a sigh and memory left, and if you are not careful, you will mess up yesterday's eyes.

Look at yourself in the mirror, count the sideburns of each flower,

Suddenly, time passed in wordless silence.

Suddenly, the heart, the roots, are intertwined, and the grass is overgrown.

But I finally know, understand, is still an unchanging existence.

Whether you come or not, whether you are here or not, it no longer matters.

Perhaps only words can dispel the greatest confusion and flood in the heart,

Or maybe everything is already doomed to cause and effect.

I let myself drift through the lonely river, and I let myself cross the rusty stains,

A silent and sharp dialogue in the name of poetry.

Dusk struck, memories reverberated, and the dark fragrance was still there.

Life is a one-act drama, always staged with a very similar plot.

And I' am in someone else's story.

Capture your own mood, but also feel the joy and sorrow of others.

When that wordless hang-up and support,

When transformed into small emotions, into the fullness and fullness of the heart,

Rolling red dust, who is the spectator and passer-by in life?

When we were young, we always liked to pretend to be arrogant, pretend to be mature,

I like to think of myself as the eyes behind the floating life,

With the insight of everything, indifferent and calmly look down on all ukiyo-e.

But I can't smile, and I can't ask for a hint of wisdom,

Any triviality and cliché can easily crush me.

Restoring life itself, my smallness and humility are not worth mentioning.

Only the truest and deepest longing and longing in the depths of the soul,

Like the faint light of a firefly, it guided me all the way.

Life is too shallow, and this jianghu is very deep and deep.

After passing through the initial vague imprints, some people and some things are destined to be obliterated by the flowing water.

Outside the window, it is a big blossom of time, dazzling and walking far.

Inside the window, there is a state of mind that stands in the wind.

Pushing open a door called years, many years were finally stranded.

And you, always, are the light and shadow in the oblique grid,

Walk on the edge of dreams and reality.

If only I could reverse the silence behind the whispers and knock on the folds of time,

Examine the fragments of memory at the same time, and paint a touch of warmth on the fingertips,

Then the September sky will surely become pure and clean.

It will definitely make all the thoughts float and fly in an instant, and let the season go and go back.

If it is the verdant locked in time, dragging the cold moon and autumn,

So weak water three thousand, who takes you a scoop, drunk outside the red dust?

In this world, there is no path that is repetitive.

Like loneliness, like memories, like some time, some people, will still become the direction of attention,

But the wind had relented, and the tattoo had already left a dark wound, as painful as yesterday.

Through thousands of scenery, I always believe that

Some pain cannot be extinguished, some memories cannot be erased, and some cannot be released.

Even if I sit here thinking about you at the moment, or one day I leave you,

I will take root in your world with love and hope.

In this life, if you are well, it is a sunny day.