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When I was a child, I fell in love with the rain, as if the sound of rain and the smell of rain were beautiful and delicious.
Trace the rhyme of the rain, to pick up the bright eyebrows of the rain flowers, through the haze, use the child's heart to read the clear and gentle affection, and laugh out of the voice in the heart...
Unfortunately, when I was a child, I couldn't say such a feeling, but the sweetness in my heart was in the corner of my mouth, and there was burning excitement and surprise in my eyes.
When I was older, I learned to use more senses and perspectives to interpret the world, every stroke of the world's poetry.
In the early morning, the hurried passers-by, the hasty whistle, the green umbrella tide, and the gray and unclear sky!
Some beauty, is not too much color, but deeply touched your heart, some feelings, only rendered a kind of artistic conception, cut close and far, connected with fine rain, stirring the lonely and long memory, in even the calm footsteps, a little bit of rippling, ripping open...
Rain, dashing!
I thought, the rain fell, the spring wind was ten miles, and the flowers on the strange blossoms were not far away. The rain is falling, the spring is approaching, and the greenery in front of the court is green.
You can feel the gentle sweetness in the cool rain, I am afraid that it is the best state at this age. The face is no longer stiff, and like the intoxication of childhood, closed his eyes, deeply absorbed - that is separated by the corner of the building, separated by the mountain, separated by the water, the breath of the coming, clear, elegant, not to provoke the dust, not to be angry, plain clothes, thin shirts, also subtle, but also handsome and calm!
But only like quiet, only this light rain, make you think clearly.
Rain falls on the stone slab, rain knocks on the small window, rain wet neon clothes, you, or stand still, or shallow lying, or sit on the cheek gaze, you can think, you can not want, you can listen, you can not listen, the world is one with the rain, isolated from the hustle and bustle, forget all, a moment, Qing xiu.
What is the rain, a clear spring that shakes out of the jade bottle, sprinkled on the world, transformed into wisps of acacia, grass and trees in the spring, or clouds in the grass and trees?
Both are and are not. We speculate on its original intentions with all kinds of imagination, but it is only wishful thinking.
We domineeringly give it different connotations, beautiful, poignant, obscure, but it is only rain, dashing fall, carefree, frank!
It was originally just a floating cloud, cruising tired, falling on the earth to rest, and when the sun was shining and steaming, it soared into the sky and returned to be a leisurely cloud.
This is an ordinary reincarnation, just because the stories of sentient beings are stained with clouds and rain, they involve many unclear feelings.
In this way, the rain has left me speechless, because I have misunderstood the rain, or resented, or resented, or denigrated, so that our hearts are gone.
Guarding a rain, like guarding a date, do you have the feelings in this? I was afraid that the date would break up early, because then the noise would fill my ears again. Even if you can savor the fun of the rain, it is only an aftertaste, and there is no sense of immersion. Then since you are so fond of it, you can say that the rain smells good.
Good! The fun of this rain is like the old knowing that I am listening to the piano, and the light is not on the piano, and the meaning is already fluttering with the strings.