She was worried about losing him. But in the end, I called him one last time with his coin. I didn't make a hole in it. Put it on.
That novel is very early, July 20xx. At that time, Anne's works were still used to parting. Joe told Zhuo Yang that after reading it, the song was over. Why do you want to meet again? Forgetting is the best memory we leave each other.
Sen said, I need you. Don't go. But before he finished, the phone hung up.
On that sleepless night, I remembered this story. Think about Nansheng, Luo Chen and peace. Nansheng's desperate and persistent love for peace. She won't give up, but she insists that he be there. Exhausted effort and passion. Even with a knife, trying to have it with death. Until one day, I had to let go and accept my life.
What a distant feeling it is. Every time I reread it, I want to write a similar story, which is also scarred and fragmented.
She must find him. He avoided seeing. She found his wife and family. She wanted to kill him to calm her anxiety. Just like Nansheng, all the tears shed are boiling hot, so I refrained from looking for them. But I still changed it for one night, and let Luo Chen go upstairs and call to report peace first. No one answered, as if the scene had never happened. The next day is still a dull life.
I have never written anything like this. I also doubt whether I can show such ferocity and emptiness.
But I like it very much. After reading Anne Baby's later works "Lotus" and "Moon Pool", looking back at her previous works, there is undercurrent and youthful atmosphere between the lines.
They are all souvenirs. Some impressions left for time.
Kites are best held by one hand. If you have the heart, if you want the kite at one end to touch the two hands at the other end, you may have to take such a risk: one may be that the two hands are not evenly applied and accidentally disconnected; Another possibility is that both hands are released, and without the traction of the hands, the kite will have no direction, and the result is "flowers drift with the water." If the kite of love wants to fly in balance, it has always been operated by the hands standing at both ends together with the kite.
No matter how good someone else's kite is, it belongs to others. You should concentrate on flying your kite. Looking at colorful kites in the sky, if something goes wrong in your hand, your kite will be like a butterfly with a broken wing, or like a broken flower on the ground, or entangled in someone else's thread, which is unclear and difficult to straighten out. The interactivity of love does not allow you to wander spiritually.
Of course, the way of flying kites has to be "relaxed one by one". If you hold it too tightly, it will break easily, and if you release it, it will fly away easily. Love is not possession, but letting the other person bathe in his own care. Love without space will suffocate, and it is certainly difficult to dance with moving steps.
If the kite doesn't belong to you, you have to give this thread to someone else. Sometimes, giving up is not losing, it just gives you a chance to fall in love. A kite that you don't have the strength to fly is as hard as self-abuse. Although being dragged by fancy kites, it is definitely not a good scenery for you who are panting and sweating. Love is a matter of two people, and harmony between the piano and the harp can produce good news. It is better not to tire yourself.
Some people are born to love freedom, so they break the rope and are blown far away by the wind. However, the kite that leaves the rope will soon fall all over. If you want to be a person who cherishes happiness in love, the taste of returning to grass can be unpleasant, because most of the hills will soon be occupied by others, and it is useless to cry your eyes out. Don't try this freedom.
Kites are not decorations at home. Only flying in the air is a kite. Flying a kite and enjoying the process, the result is not the most important. The process of flying kites is also a process of communication. Love will not go bad unless the air is fresh. Did you see the roses in full bloom in the dark room?
Kites can fly high, and love can fly far. Are people who love kites destined to be accompanied by pain? If love is the thread holding a kite, what is a kite?
Two people are flying kites in a distant and vast place in the sky they love. He paid for love, and she sacrificed for love. When two people are together, it is like a kite flying higher and higher when it meets the wind. Even if it is full of lovesickness, it is also happy. He misses her, and she misses him. In this way, distance produces beauty. Let the kite soar in the sky of love.
Kites fly higher and higher, and when the thread breaks, their kites will float with the wind. They began to doubt their love. He paid so much, just like holding the string of a kite, making it fly high, but what if it breaks? That kite will no longer belong to me. He is in pain. ...
Will he always wait for me? Just like this thread, holding me tightly, won't you hold the second kite again? She hesitated ... so their kites began to spin in the air and tottered. ...
It took several years to write letters by telephone. Over the years, he struggled for his career, and she waited hard. In their world, she has pain, laughter, suspicion and tears, but more of a mutual tolerance and trust. They believe that as long as Qi Xin works together, their kites can fly in the sky of love. When they meet again, their love will be more mature than now.
If they let the kite fly, the string holding the kite will be broken; If they doubt each other and don't struggle out of their pain, the kite may fall to the ground. Love is like flying a kite, sometimes it is released, sometimes it is tight. What is needed is careful management by two people. With their persistence in love and trust in each other, they flew the kite of love. Kite love, is it that one person is a kite, the other person is holding the kite string, or both of them are flying their kites with strings?
Our love, like wind and sand, drifts farther and farther, fades and disappears. ...
I like the sea and the blue of the sea, but when I wrote your name on the beach, the waves washed it away. I wrote with such care, only a small wave diluted, and I can't find a trace anymore. My hobby is very fragile and difficult. Perhaps, our love will not have the result originally, but we love with our heart, and that's it? I wrote your name over and over again, but the sea diluted your name over and over again. ...
I learned the result and cried sadly. I didn't know I cared so much! Care about your news and all your memories. Listen to that song, over and over again, look at the cherry blossoms, it's over, thanks. Where are you? Where is it?
When I miss you, you are not there.
I once imagined myself as a flowering tree with flowers in front of your window. However, at my best, you were not with me.
The cherry blossoms have fallen, and I can't find your shadow anymore. ...
Go away, go away. You are already on the horizon.
I can't find it, I can't find it. The past, the future, everything about you has nothing to do with me. As if you never loved me.
Maybe I'm sentimental, maybe I'm wishful thinking. Standing by the sea, I cried when I saw the cherry tree, but my love drifted away and disappeared. ...
When the wind blows, all plants and trees should bow their heads and listen.
On the old trees in front of the village, the dead branches are swaying in the cold wind, and the dead leaves and broken branches either fall on the mother's white hair or float into the distance. My mother stood under the tree and took pains to tell me. I looked down and listened absently.
We have to leave eventually. I bid farewell to my mother and set foot on the road to a distant place. After walking for a while, looking back, my mother was still standing under the tree with her back hunched, but her head stretched forward hard, looking at the direction I left, like an elongated bow. And I, however, am an arrow without strings attached? !
With a click, a dead branch broke off and was about to fall on mom's head. I screamed, "Mom!"
Woke up suddenly, it turned out to be a dream. My wife was awakened by me, too. She asked sleepily, "What's the matter?" I said, nothing, I woke up, you go back to sleep! Get up, outside the window, the wind is blowing gently, the sky is slightly bright, and a new day is coming. It's been almost half a year since I left my mother.
I don't want to count how many times I left, but now I deeply understand that every time I left, my mother was worried. A mother's love for her son is like this ubiquitous and ever-present wind.
Once when I was a child, I stole a neighbor's toy. When my mother found out, she flew into a rage and gave me a good beating. While beating, she cried while cursing, "No matter how poor our family is, we can't steal from others!" " What can you do after stealing at such a young age? "The weather in those days was terrible. My mother's" ferocious "face and the storm outside made me remember it still. Later, I learned that my mother was so cruel to me because she loved me so much and had high expectations of me! However, in the afternoon, I went to a distant relative's house in a neighboring village without permission, made up a lie and stayed for two days. On the third day, before the wind stopped and the rain stopped, my mother came to me wet. When she saw me, she suddenly held me in her arms and cried, "son, I finally found you." I went to almost all my relatives' houses these days. You can't scare me like this anymore! " I also hugged my mother tightly and said, "Mom, I won't dare again!" " "Crying is accompanied by wind, tears are mixed with rain, and even the relatives who see it can't help but shed tears. I see, whether my mother coaxes me or hits me, it's the same love. Motherly love can be as gentle as a breeze, hug me, warm me, comfort me, encourage me, or as unrestrained as a strong wind, warning me to spur me and help me correct and grow.
Maternal love is like the wind, but unfortunately I am not a tree rooted in my mother's side, and I can always bow my head and listen to her teachings. Maybe I am a cloud, destined to drift with the wind. Studying in high school, going abroad in university, and deciding to go to Xinjiang after graduating from university. When I told my mother my decision, my mother was silent for a long time and finally said, "Now that you have decided to start a business, go ahead." I am on your side. It's just that you have to take care of yourself when you run so far alone. " I didn't ask my mother to see me off when I left, and my mother didn't insist, so I stayed in the house alone. When I left home, the clouds were light and the wind was light, but my heart was surging, I know, and so was my mother. In Xinjiang, I have seen the customs of ethnic minorities and the endless desert. I called my mother and told them. My mother is happy for me and keeps telling me to pay attention to safety. Mother said: "safety is the most important thing when you are alone outside." Anyway, you should take care of yourself. When you come back for the New Year, let your mother see that you are still good. " I said, "Mom, I remember everything you said. I won't make you sad. I know you always miss me! " "
Yes, I know. If I were a cloud, my mother's love would be the wind that helps me swim in the sky.
Later, I left Xinjiang and went to Dongying, Shandong Province, where I bought a house, got married and gave birth to a daughter. Mother also moved in with us. I once again enjoyed my mother's meticulous care. The daughter was born and raised under the careful care of her mother and became a little princess that everyone loved. Dongying is near the sea, and the wind blows all year round. My mother also tells me the worldly wisdom of my hometown every day, and tells me the simple but practical life truth handed down from generation to generation.
But last winter, because my parents-in-law were in poor health, my wife insisted that my children and I go back to our hometown with her to take care of our parents. I didn't refuse, after all, this is the duty of being a child. I love my mother, and she loves her mother. I have brothers and sisters here and my mother-in-law has only one daughter. Old people always want their children around, and so does their mother-in-law. So, I had to say goodbye to my mother again, and went to the south with my family with my baby granddaughter she had seen since childhood, without giving her a return date. After I left, every time I called my mother, she would cry for a while and say that she was envious of seeing other people's homes together. I can only report peace and promise to take a long vacation to take my wife and children back to see her. Hanging up the phone, my heart is as wet as rain.
Just thinking, my daughter turned over and pushed the quilt away with a melody. I was about to cover it when my wife sat up in a daze, covered her daughter's quilt, kissed her forehead, and then lay down and fell asleep. Oh, she is a mother, too. This is an action that she has repeated countless times over the years.
A gust of wind blew into the window and gently blew on my face, like a mother's gentle hand. Yes, wherever I am, maternal love follows like the wind. I can make waves at the seaside and roll up wild sand in the desert, so that I can never forget my mother's teachings and miss her more and more.
The wind is getting stronger, mom. Did you sleep well tonight?
Wind, when you blow here, please pass by my house and bring me news of my mother.
However, when you pass by my house, please be careful not to wake my dear mother when I sleep!
Feng's prose 5 has always felt that he is a lonely person. Quiet life, silent, don't want to communicate with people. I feel old fast, I don't trust others easily, and I have no sense of security. The fragility and helplessness hidden in my heart make me desperate, but I don't need the comfort of others. Insomnia, sometimes lying in the quilt, eyes always open, not sleepy, the brain has been very excited.
Many people are not used to the gloomy things in the text, but go straight into their hearts and expose all thin and cool things. Life has been a bit difficult recently. Fear and stress chilled me. You know, stick to it. Hang in there. Inferiority in my heart is derived. When I feel that there is no way out, I can only move on. When fighting with your heart, it feels like death.
Eyes indifferent, cold hands on the pulse of the left hand. You need to fry 30 pairs of Chinese medicines every day. It takes about half a year to adjust your body. The old wound has recurred. I once again thought of my destiny. I don't know where my pursuit will be. I am still strong. Walking out of the drugstore, the sun is shining outside and the skin is warm. On the way back from the car, the lake in the distance was frozen, and a couple walked on it with their hands clasped. There is "I do" in the car, and tears drop instantly. For so many years, love has come and gone, deeply staying in my heart. I just don't have anyone to accompany me until now. It turns out that in the trivial matters of the world of mortals, eternity is just white clouds floating in the sky.
A woman in deep memory may be a mother on the other side of the ocean. The cold wind on this shore remains the same, and loneliness remains the same. An empty room, a person to eat, a person to cook medicine, a person to live. I've been playing and I'm tired for a long time.
Just afraid of being crushed by life and the past and forgotten by you. Many feelings on the internet are fake. Everyone is pouring out their experiences. Nothing is worthy of truth except the warmth you give and the coldness in your soul.
The burning sensation of alcohol in the stomach may be gone in the future. After the wound heals, you can't drink any more. In the days to come, this is taboo. Afraid of losing your dream, my heart is as silent as ash. The face touched by the dust of life in the mirror, the wrinkles in the corner of my eyes, my heart is full of pain.
We all know some feelings, but I expressed them, and you kept them in your heart. The written words are always sensitive and clear. Dust on the soul, silent wind, memory. There are still heavy realities to face, but our souls are interlinked. Those energetic feelings will become dull and forgotten.
Friends are the most beautiful meeting and the most wonderful fate in the world, which can always give you a hazy touch inadvertently. It is the moment when the eyelashes tremble, and a little acid between the nose falls into a little sweetness in the bottom of my heart.
True friends don't have to depend on each other, but they must know each other and stay together; You don't have to miss it all the time, but you must take it to heart; You don't have to share weal and woe, but you must share weal and woe. It is silence and embarrassment, tears together, sadness, and separation from each other. In the years of life, there is someone who can cry with you, regardless of the reason, regardless of the direction, without arguing with you. This is a wonderful time, a silent life, no complaints.
A friend can be a faint smile or a deep and deep effort. It won't be a fair-weather friend in the market, sharing big fish and meat with you and drinking heartily in the crowing. It was an encounter in the alley of Yanhua Lane. After enjoying a fireworks with you, we passed by and disappeared into the crowd. He is an oral confidant in the teahouse and pub. I talked with you about my dream life all night, and a few words have given me everything. It's a farewell song in the high-rise building of the bright moon. I played the huqinliu for you all night, and then turned around. This is a friend, no matter how much you pay, no matter how deep your friendship is, as long as you meet, it is eternal.
Perhaps, many years later, you will miss the weeping willows that have been folded. The people who have enjoyed the peach blossoms and playfulness will fold the weeping willows again, plant a peach tree and wait for the next spring with the people around you. This is the friendship between friends, caring and relying on each other. Embrace people who know themselves, there will be no eternal companionship, but there must be eternal concern.
When the vast land is separated from the Gobi forest, what is engraved in the years of lead China is the promise of not seeing for one year, not thinking for one year and not forgetting for ten years. Shuttling through the lights of the night market, I was moved out by a lamp. I miss the two people who are dependent on each other under the street lamp, shaking until dawn, and then smiling at each other when I get home. This missed friendship is a cup of wine brewed in time, which is more mellow after being stranded in the years. It's just that no matter how long it lasts, it won't become old wine, because this cup of wine will always be called first sight.
A person walking on a criss-crossing road, sighing the weeping willows on the roadside, tired of the breeze on the river, will think of his former friends. I want to live a floating life again, spend a rain with you and enjoy a full moon. In the world of mortals, I fell in love with yesterday, greedy today and promised tomorrow.
Never forget to leave your friends, never get tired of staying together, never give up understanding with each other, and call "friends" when it is gray. But the past is like the wind, and my thoughts are still there.
If you put half your heart in the city and half your heart in the country, prose like the wind 7. I wonder if this is a man's feelings or a woman's tenderness?
This morning is neither hot nor cold, and the air is full of seasonal fragrance. Walking alone outside the city, pushing away the years, the flowers are overflowing, the birds are singing like poetry, and the wind is blowing slowly.
Not because the years are empty, not because of the splash of spring, but because of the slow desire in my heart, I will go out of the city to experience that kind of subtle feelings.
A little relieved, a little self-deprecating. In today's increasingly blurred boundaries, are you away from the city or the city away from yourself? I suddenly realized that it was just an illusion. Cities are more and more like villages, and rural development is more and more like cities. If it is not a breeze, if it is not the moon, if it is not a distant tree, the figure standing at the window has flashy eyes, why is it so exciting in a calm and indifferent morning?
Flowers are three thousand miles long, flowers are difficult to understand, and so on. I have long been used to the crowded and fast-paced competition in the city, but there is another feeling crawling and caressing more and more desires. Looking at the rural city, I am infatuated with the countryside in the city, and I feel worried about the years. I don't know how long I have been wandering.
It has always been difficult to solve. Many years ago, when I set out from the countryside, I was almost tired of watching the breeze and grass dew. Ye Ping was full of autumn, and I even complained about the faint smell of grass and mud in the wind. The inner intersection is clear, the sun is shining ahead, the city is heaven, ignoring the expectations and eyes born behind, the sky is high and the clouds are pale, waving without leaving a trace of missing.
Many years later, sitting at the window of the city and watching life in time and space, I feel that there are many people and the world is full of dust. Suddenly I feel sorry for myself. What kind of life is comfortable? In the midst of prosperity, I am restless, struggling and lost; Tian Yan is afraid of weakening the years in Beijing, leaving the years of life blank, and not realizing the opportunities and wonderful things in the world. Show in the city, bid farewell to the desire that rises from the bottom of my heart, and let the water of the city splash all day.
Time has become a past tense, from the city to the countryside, and from the countryside back to the city, like a cloud in the wind, ferrying back and forth.
I still chose the city, at least I have a dream, a cycle of growth, ups and downs, great joy and great sorrow, reasons for being stubborn, and unforgettable feelings of vanity and self-pity. But after reading life, I suddenly find that there is an intolerant world in my heart. Life is like a never-ending chase, which can't stop and is full of dust. The world is wonderful, but it is more like a fermentation machine. The dream of fermentation also ferments greed, creating wealth also creates emptiness, passion and loneliness, and success in growth also leads to depression. Those dreams that first entered, pursued and worked hard didn't wake up until many years later. Life games are bustling and colorful, flashing with excitement and success in bright places, but floating with fatigue and anxiety in dark places.
I still miss this country. Wandering in the country road, ten miles of willow embankment, warm wind blowing on the face, wild trees cooking smoke, as quiet as water. Open the window and there will be a bright moon. When you see the west from the east, you can accompany you as far as you want. Everything in the imagination, put down on the spot, let the bridge flow, and pass by. With nothing in my chest and poetry in my eyes, I left the city, like a leaf, blown down by the wind in the countryside, slowly dispersed in indifference and leisure, and my joy gradually rounded up.
However, the city lights are still charming in the distance, so he said, "Can it rain and blow away the floating dust?" It really rained, and it dripped, turning the new green in spring into a new scene of the city.
When it rains, put down the curtains, cut off the world, put down the wings, stop the ferry, and the world slowly sinks into sight. I gradually saw clusters of salamanders growing in my heart. Buddha said: The dreamland in my heart comes from the exotic fish I planted. In the invisible world, we pull it out and plant it ourselves. We have walked all our lives, and the cities and villages are still outside.
However, there is nothing wrong with cities and rural areas. We don't have much choice, whether to yearn for or give up. Walking in it is the heart, wandering in time and space, and the heart can rotate with the environment. The heart turns with the environment in vain; Ideas can change places, Fang Ran. In the city, I gave my heart to the world of mortals. In the country, I left a lonely heart. Why is the breeze slow?
At the ferry between the city and the country, let the heart change.
Prose, like the wind for 8 years, passed through that unforgettable dream and was indifferently portrayed in memory.
The past of time. It discredited the agreement of fleeting time.
The passage of a period of time has changed the thin and promising record.
The regret in my heart has become the dust wind in my heart, even if it is full of flowers,
I also feel like a heavy stone, I can't smell water and flowers, and I can't see color.
If the heart is brilliant, it is precious to thousands of things, but also chic, with a full face of spring scenery.
It is the situation in the pen that promises the free and easy plot in the poem.
A summer's time, I walked through the winding path of cicadas, singing birds and flowers.
In fact, what people love most is the Qingming in the Spring and Autumn Period, and what they like best is the breeze in two seasons.
That kind of feeling of no hurry and no impatience is as beautiful as water falling out of flowers, bearing the glory of our country.
The sound of autumn rolls around my ears, rippling the sad beauty of the withered flowers of butterflies.
Beauty remains the same, but melancholy marriages have increased.
The quiet place is not full of flowers, but more depression in splendor.
The northernmost land will snow again and the mountains will be frozen.
The change of seasons has become a carrier of leisure.
This autumn is the beauty after flowers bloom.
This is also a painful separation calendar, the differences between everything,
I also endure sadness.
It's just that the pain of separation is different.
Standing at the intersection of early autumn, watching the flowers turn into mud and the wind chill,
The hardships along the way, perhaps only God knows.
The time I saw and the experience I cried,
It will be engraved in my heart forever, accompanied by tears and beautiful smiles.
Still clinging to the years when I fell asleep in music.
Think of it in loneliness, vaguely.
In retrospect, in fact, many fans,
This is just a reward and an encounter.
In retrospect, I was disheartened.
Life is still the same, and some things will fade if they are pessimistic.
But some things are just marks on iron,
This became a complete failure. There are many flowers in the world, and it is easy to get drunk in vain.
People in a sea of people will always have some sad surprises like dreams.
Time flies, winter goes to summer, and life is getting old in this toss.
That strange encounter is still flowing in my memory.
High mountains and flowing water, and listen to the wind.
In still water, you know how to be comfortable and safe.
Take some time to watch the sunset glow,
Beauty in life may be our eternal theme.
Slow down your thinking and form your own scenery. Walking in the grass and Woods,
A flower is in a hurry when it fails. Smile with the years,
Parallel with elegance, ten fingers intersect, dyed in the spring and autumn,
Rippling in the drifting dust wind!
Prose of the Wind 9 At this point in the night, my body and mind can't help but relax. Free space, there are a few pure music, so quietly leaning on the bed, can not help but put my thoughts away. The rain outside the window is getting smaller and smaller, the breeze is exploring the window, and the cool artistic conception is indifferent. People are always like this, from fear at the beginning, to like, and then to rely on. I think that's how I felt about that night. Whether listening to songs, writing lyrics or meditating, what I like is to find the simplest and truest self in solitude, talk to it and enjoy this happy moment.
I like this sentence very much. "In your eyes now, there are hidden the roads you have traveled, the books you have read, the scenery you have seen, the sadness you have traveled, and the people you have loved." Because of all the splendor and dullness in these lives, we have a unique self.
I remember coming to this city that many people yearn for two years ago. Flashy and glamorous make people trance, and how incompatible they have always been. Looking back now, I finally lost a lot of weight. I was in a hurry when I first came, and the noise around me was getting farther and farther, which didn't matter. It's just that I was stubborn at that time and told myself I couldn't go back. It's still very profound now. Although the ups and downs during the period have already settled. But I still want to thank those experiences that made me grow up. In this world, we are all the same.
After you come back from this journey of flying yourself, it is natural that your body and soul are extremely smooth. Along the way, the clouds are light and the wind is light, accompanied by joy. After seeing the mountains and rivers in a foreign land and feeling the humanities and scenery there, I realized many limitations of life. Because I love walking, I am free and rich. It looks so beautiful at first sight, even if I don't go in the future, I can walk countless times by memory. Time is slow, people grow. We like walking because we like to meet our true selves. Whenever and wherever you walk on the road, you will smile from your heart, like the wind.
Time still flies, and those things that have happened in life, intentionally or unintentionally, have become the pages of the past. The healing power of time is still very convincing. Along the way, the scenery and experiences along the way teach us about the world layer by layer, deep or shallow. There are many changes in this world, and the most rare thing is to keep the original heart, simple and simple. After the prosperity and indifference of this road, the cracks that once existed in life will also be tolerated and appeased. The beauty of those songs that used to be about wine are all wonderful notes, and their music is like singing years. Although we will still have fear and love for this world, we will know how to cherish and be content.
I don't know how broad my horizons are, and I don't know that the world is closed and long. Since I fell in love with someone and walked quietly, I realized that the world is full of storms, flying snow and claws, as well as human happiness and natural riding. Perhaps the human heart, like the wind, has no direction, because this quiet place is my hometown.
Wind-like prose 10 Listen to the piano, caress the sword, and concentrate.
It will be windy and rainy tomorrow. When the chrysanthemums bloom, it will get cold. Riding the world of mortals to heaven, there is a little melancholy in the dust. Full of lofty sentiments, there is no such thing as a return date. Five hundred years ago, in my life for five hundred years, I only looked back for that one. The wind stopped, the rain stopped, and the old man never went online. When you laugh, heaven has no eyes.
Spread out the paper and grind the thick ink. What if the pen is like the wind, the wind blows, the water overflows the Jinshan Mountain, and the Leifeng Tower falls, leaving no one? The broken bridge and umbrella originally belonged to Conan. Let's treat green tea as wine, wail as a song, worship the sky three times, burn a fragrance and return it to the world.
People are like the wind and their hearts are like water.