A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
author：Yimeng Mountain minor Daigu tone
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago.
The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, little by little, stretched, into hard and transparent wings that can fly, and the color changed from light yellow to brown.
The process of degeneration of life is like the most solemn religious ceremony, like the most beautiful poem, which makes people cry.
The new cicada clings to the old shell, as if clinging to his past life.
When night falls, it slowly emerges from the soil, climbs to the nearest tree, and transforms quietly, before dawn, before the birds prey on them, abandoning their old shells, flapping their wings and flying high, and their voices ringing high.
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
A photo taken in my hometown eight years ago. The new cicada feathered, slowly degenerating from the old shell, and the original wings curled up into a clump, opening little by little, stretching, becoming hard and transparent and flying
