The dusk of Jiangnan is the gentle night color after the misty sunset sinks away.
The stars hang quietly in the night sky, and the frogs sound bursts of sound ...... just like this to open the night curtain.
Standing on the balcony to see that the small moon like hook, moonlight color pale, clouds fluctuating drift, the breeze, there is a kind of warm Jiangnan charm.
Looking away, the sky is still slightly blue, the earth is visible, the mountains are vaguely lush, the silhouette is exceptionally clear. Listening to the mountain stream is still gurgling, the night of the world a warm.
Here, away from the hustle and bustle of the world, quiet and secluded, but the leisurely spirit of the wonderful. Like a paradise, the flowers bloomed on the mountain, the aroma filled the air, the night became sweet. The bats that love to swim at night fly up and down in the air; the beautiful little insects rustle and shake their light wings, confusing people; unknown birds in the cooing and whispering, suspected of saying love, listening and very sad ......
I like the landscape here, I like the warmth and coziness of this place, you can dream peacefully.
Turn around and go back to the room, turn off the lights to find the window, the ground is full of fireflies, three or five groups, like picking a lantern around looking for wandering, bright and dark, a flash, like the stars in the sky down, embellished my room of darkness, the spirit of the night, but also the beauty of my mood.
Close your eyes, as if you are in the center of a lake, leisurely swaying, fireflies around me dancing, for me to light up a small lamp, and the stars in the sky should be bright, like a fairy tale world. I used my hand to swing up the gentle lake, gentle into the dreamland: wind gently, water full, fireflies flash ......
night prose essays 2three days and three nights, around you do not stop:
three days and three nights, it is you let me forget!
Do not worry for the time being so choose to stop the machine for three days and three nights,
Surrounded by thousands of years of dreams and passions to get yourself lost!
Well, let the hundred-year-old amah sit up,
Fill up the wine cup with thanksgiving to the departed ancestors,
Revel in this ancient festival together in different worlds!
You look around at the expectant eyes!
Look at the greetings floating in the air.
Three days and three nights, banished from the depths of the heart outside the body of the old,
regardless of the yin and yang round the corner!
Those delicious food wait for him to go cold,
lifting the glass of wine to put down their own pride.
Don't look for the hero in your heart,
At this moment, you are God!
The eyes of your parents can't cover your pride,
Don't worry about the capital of his old age,
now you are the protagonist!
Get drunk and go straight to the past and present!
Don't think about everything along the way,
Fickle attitudes can't suppress incisiveness!
When the torch lights up the corners of your eyes,
the ears are waiting for the dance music to exaggerate!
Leave the corner of the heart to the most loving person!
Let him come and go as he pleases.
Three days and three nights, no day and night.
Don't distinguish between black and white!
Let your muddle dominate the moment,
Leave half-drunk except for the haze.
The attitude of the maniac is your attitude,
and the words of wine are the greetings!
Three days and three nights, no questions asked!
Just raise your glasses and laugh together!
The night of the prose essays 3
The wreckage of time, all because of the helpless drying, become fragments of memory, and ultimately loaded into the time to look back, head down to taste the tile jar.
I still stubbornly go, in the journey of the spring to draw some spring water again and again swings, draw some rain again and again wet, draw some tears again and again clear.
The light of the spring once again crossed a piece of water, you can no longer see me. I deliberately hidden into a side of grass color, in the once deep and shallow left memory of the orientation; my whispers, blown by the wind into the still to the south to the north of the prostrate, but that's not me all the way to the piety, my piety and gratitude is only loaded in the heart of the still turbulent.
When my footprints stepped through those midnight, you still pain in the search of the eyes, pain in the words of those rain through the wind. And under my stubborn paws, you can't see how I pick up and collect those painful fragments after I walk all the way through.
Finally, I can be sour and relieved to see you a little bit will be some of the traces of the past, in this just come to the spring slowly erased. Perhaps, this is a forever, maybe not belong to the forever distance. I am in the place where you do not notice, still watching, feeling your every three o'clock in the morning.
From the capture of those instantaneous scenes, to read some distant news about you; and I am in this spring, can finally slowly calm the scars left by their own escape, can finally from now on quietly disappeared in the vast stream of people, without a word.
I do not need to justify myself, and there is no reason to justify a spring harvest, or a winter flurry of falling snow. I am willing to bear alone, in the most helpless time, still helpless, still willing to use their most sincere sorrow, in exchange for some of the only touch or the ultimate nothing.
I still put about the fall, about midnight, about a snow yearnings deep in the deepest part of the heart, only let yourself see enough.
Prose Essay on Night 4The night is quiet, small snow grains drifting outside the window, the children are asleep, after washing the clothes, the hands are freezing and itchy, brew yourself a cup of bitter tea, play a piece of soothing light music. Slowly let yourself quiet down, many days, has been restless, no time to take care of their mood. Maybe the winter is too cold, maybe I am too negative, for many days, bad mood has been haunting me, breathless. Work, children, housework exhausted myself physically and mentally, but there was not the slightest way to do anything about it. There came a snowfall, which thrilled myself and brought many inconveniences at the same time. The water pipes in the house froze, my son's cotton boots jumped wet, slept in the middle of the night, my son had a fever, took white wine to my son and rubbed him twice, and tossed me into a cold. Headache, lying in bed, when can I sleep enough, suddenly want to cry, strong support to find a few tablets to eat, holding the son of a deep sleep.
Yesterday, Friday, my daughter came back, when it was dark, I drove to Poplar with a friend to pick her up, and then turned to my parents' house, my little niece ran up to me and called me auntie, and I was embarrassed to be empty-handed. In Poplar, I received my daughter, my daughter was carsick, so I let my friend take my daughter home first. I went to a good friend's son's banquet in Poplar, and watched a good friend's child grow a little into a handsome boy, I can't help but sigh, the time is fast, the child grows up, we are getting old.
Back home, the two children have eaten at their grandmother's house, looking at the daughter back to the dirty clothes, worry, no water how to wash. The two children do not care about this, in the home can be crazy. I'm too sleepy, and son to sleep first, when the daughter went to sleep, the son straight screaming, said nothing will not let his sister next to him. I had to let my son sleep on my left, my daughter slept on my right, next to my daughter's moment, I understand the reason why my son straight screaming, my daughter ice as cold, I tried to let my daughter put her feet on me, my daughter understood and said: "Mom, do not need, I'm afraid of ice on you."
Today Saturday, six o'clock in the morning, my son woke up on time, in the nest to get up, I can not sleep, but I just do not want to get up, wait until the nest was not half the heat of the son. Look at the watch, eight o'clock, get up, cooking, frying, buy bread. At nine o'clock, I went to school to take the law examination, the two children at home to play. When I came home after the exam, the door was locked, the two children ran away to their grandmother's house, waiting for the two children to come back, and make hot pot to eat. Then take the two children to take a bath, the bathhouse, the son like a small fish, crawling around on the ground, bare and lovely, looking at the child so happy, the heart of the depression swept away.
After the bath all the stores on the street, and did not buy the daughter satisfied with the cotton pants. I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it," he said. When the power came on, we went to the neighbor's house again to bring water and wash the clothes.
On a night like this, with snow falling outside, a sleeping child in the house, soft music, bitter tea, and a hot air heater, there was a washed and warmed daughter's cotton dress in front of the heater. Very quiet night, the heart is not in the mind, suddenly remembered that today I panicked did not call my parents. I called my parents and felt a little better. Such a snowy night, in fact, a lot of things to think about, we are the dust of the mortal world, there is no such thing as can't pass the hurdles, encountered bad to the good, encountered a good thing to the bad to think about, just to understand that life is like that, the future of the inexplicable fear, go through the past, it is a very unforgettable memories.
Out of the house, open the lights, snow particles are still floating, silver flash, very beautiful.
Prose Essay on Night 5The color of the sky gradually darkened, looking up, heavy on my head.
Not many people on the street , walking in the cold wind, the only accompanied me, only this roadside a few tall trees.
I seem to smell the faint scent of gardenias, not strong, not strong, just good Diffuse in the air, fresh, elegant, but also to this lonely night added a few points of color.
Wearing headphones, listening to the song, footsteps messy walking.
I don't know where I want to go, I just want to come out and walk. I don't know where I should go, I just feel a little tired inside.
Closing my eyes, I smelled a familiar lemon-flavored aroma, as if you were right next to me. I stopped, but I never refused to open my eyes, because I was afraid that, when I opened them, I would realize that you were actually not there at all.
Thinking of that guitar, carrying it on your back, I wanted to see you play the guitar again.
As if to look at you again, holding the guitar, playing y, and then follow the melody to sing softly, I also secretly follow you to sing.
Cold cold night, only I one, the heart is empty, and as if the heart is full, loaded with all you.
I continued to walk forward, looked up at the air twinkling stars, thought, that one of the brightest will not be you.
Don't worry, even if you are not by my side, I will remember, that year, there is a boy carrying a guitar Standing in front of me, said to me, "This song is only for you to hear.
The night of the prose essay 6
Will not be too small because of the letter paper and agonized, endless emotions write endless stories.
The honey water is too light, faded out bitter. Memories do not give the opportunity to indulge, even if it is a second of hesitation, will miss a few points of thought. I am also afraid that the ink in the pen will dry up, if that even if there are many things I want to say will end here.
I have never seen stars in the darkness of the night, the only thing that can light up the lonely night is the fluorescence of the cell phone screen.
The winds of early fall took me out of this street that had been with me for a long time but was still unfamiliar. The street has been refreshed every day and rarely repeated, so how can I dare to say that it is familiar?
Cumin heavy smoke, how many people with alcohol anesthesia soul, sniffing the fumes of the sadness of the raw throat, the south of the world all over the world to talk about everything, but also can laugh a few times, but while the strength of the wine to the past all the joy and spit out, and then wake up the dream is again a few sighs. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and you'll be able to do it all in one place.
Perhaps only the warmth of the bedding can give me the slightest bit of familiarity.
There are many things to be envied;
just like migratory birds, despite spending much of their lives migrating, they are never encroached upon by the cold. If I am also a migratory bird, I would like to use my half-life bumps for my life never touched the cold, even if there will be the beauty of the breathtaking snow lotus in full bloom, even if the waxing moon flying snow magnificent unimaginable, even if the rainbow after the wind and snow is the most dazzling. All can not want.
I said the migratory birds in fear, will only escape. Later, I said to myself, because there is no experience, so there is not so much woe, more will not let the haggard unrestrained.
Later, I realized that it was a fairy tale that could not be envied, and even jealousy said "funny".
That is bitter, sigh of export swallowed throat.
Time to open the joke is too big, but can only be hard to cater to.
In fact;
is afraid of being forgotten.
The night prose essays 7
The distant barking of the dogs mixed with the summer night insects more show the emptiness of the night. The light of the occasional flash of light is only to set off the depth of the night only.
Get up, light a cigarette, and swallow this loneliness together with the darkness of the night, and in the light and darkness of the fire, everything goes up in smoke - just like our lives!
Yes, yes, this is life. The river of time erodes us into hurried passers-by, and the years of life carve us into melancholy philosophers.
Such a dark night, suitable for their own calm thinking. I'm not sure if I've ever had a good time, but I'm not sure if I've ever had a good time, and I'm not sure if I've ever had a good time. Once naively thought that I have a lot, such as wealth, such as experience, such as friends - however, when I was quiet to realize, in fact, I never really have! At this moment, you will realize that friendship is not about how many friends you know, but how many friends still know you in times of trouble. Yes, as people often say, the night gave me black eyes, but I use her to find the light. Only this ink general black night, let me start to grow.
Such a sleepless night is suitable for introspection. Everyone who comes to the world naked, only holds a one-way ticket. The past is gone forever, and what's gone is not coming back. The saddest thing is that we can't know exactly where we are going to end up. So, to love is to love, and once you don't love anymore, you naturally don't love anymore. All I can do is not to hysterically try to regain the love I once had, but to do my best to keep my self-respect. The same as love, our happiness, our life, our hope are equally irreversible, loss is destined to be lost, miss must be missed. So our course must and must be: forward! Forward!
Such a lonely night, of course, is suitable for meditation. I'm not willing to choke on the shortness of life, but I'm also not counting on a long time to come. I'm not going to be able to say that life is too short, but I'm not going to be able to say that it's too long! Things like wealth, happiness and friends. Yesterday I didn't have them, and tomorrow they may not be mine. So, only cherish. This night, this loneliness, and even this suffering are all equally worth cherishing. For those who believe in me, there is no need to explain; for those who don't believe in me, why should I explain? With my ordinary but grateful heart, I am always in awe of all the bounty of nature, and eternally grateful for this unrepeatable life. I don't want to pursue the night to make me lonely, or because of loneliness let me into the night. In the darkness of the night to savor this loneliness is not a kind of happiness to have? We are often confused in the pursuit of tomorrow's happiness, often obsessed with looking forward to the next stop of happiness. So, happiness and joy will be inadvertently from our eyes, from our hands quietly slipped away. But my dear, have you ever understood that life is just a subtraction - one day, then one day less!
Such a wise dark night, let me understand - live in the moment. Our lives are being meshed, eaten and eroded all the time. Or loneliness, or pain, or sadness, or illness. If life is meant to be an ordeal, then we should also be in nirvana in the midst of suffering; if life is meant to be a journey, then what reason do we have to miss the scenery along the way? With what kind of attitude we treat life, life will give us the same `color. Respecting life, respecting life, is respecting ourselves. Often in our youth, we vomit blood, night and day to struggle and struggle for power. For fame and fortune. Even accustomed to the world of deceit and deceitfulness. Until exhaustion, gray temples, only to find that only health, only plain, is the life of the greatest frank.
It is such a silent night, quietly feel their own breathing, silently follow their heartbeat, I will suddenly experience the rhythm of nature. The countless beings on this beautiful planet who are with me are as silent as I am at this moment in this same night. But this silence is not the same as silence! Because this silence will give birth to an unprecedented great power in the night, which is like lightning enough to tear through the infinite night and will eventually give us
-- a golden dawn!
Prose Essay on Night 8Many people love the night. Many people have written about night. Some like the quietness of the night, some like the sharpness of the night, some like the night is good at listening, some like the night to embrace everything, and even some people obsessed with the night, as obsessed with the dreams of youth.
Some people are different during the day and night. Maybe she is quiet and shy during the day, but wild and crazy at night. Maybe she is noisy during the day, but at night she is melancholic. Maybe she puts on layers of masks during the day and can do anything, but at night she takes off the masks because she can't find her true self and is terrified. Some people say, "The day is short, the night is long, why don't you swim by candlelight". Some people say, "The morning light will come sooner or later, pray all night, but hope the night is not too long". And I've been seizing the inspiration of the night, year after year.
One year, I went back to my hometown, and it was already late at night when I arrived at the yard. From the car out of the moment, the youngest sister exclaimed, apparently by what was shocked. I looked up along with her gaze, then looked a starry night. The night sky in the countryside is particularly penetrating, no fog, no haze, the night curtain pressed low, the sky full of stars such as dotted diamonds, scattered pearls, broken crystals, clear night like a film wrapped around the entire night sky, as if reaching out a little bit of the sky full of night stars poured down. Walking in the countryside at night, the dew on the grass on the ankles, wet and cool, cold wind washed the ears of the people rushing, the tired heart also overflowed a spring, and percolated out a light and leisurely taste, walking in a dark, but also not afraid, just think of walking slowly, the slower you walk, immersed in the exchange with the night. So someone said, "disturb my calm thoughts, put far away from the reach of my soul, sink me in the sweet and bitter breath, in the darkness of the indication of everything, in the trance memory of the fragrance of the dream. Maybe it's the night, maybe it's you ......"
Such a night, such a starry sky, plunged into it, will certainly be he touched the softest place in the heart, touching the deepest part of the soul. Every time I get lost in the front, that piece of the night star will flash in the brain, such as a flash in the pan, but in the memory left a glimpse of the constant thought.
There are also people who say that at night, "the sky of the city is bright and charming lights dyed red, red like a shell ...... shell, is the starlight. Starlight through the thousands of years away, from the ancient search to the present, from the beginning of creation to the present. A head hit the shell and stopped. Looked at it woodenly, annihilated." Nights in the city, or in the streets with the lights out, walking with a group, walking with a person, walking with shadows. Annihilation of the starlight of the night stretching open bloodthirsty white teeth and pull the moon wing membrane, enjoying the poetry of the vanity and the loneliness of the cold. The most lively is just the end of the song, the people scattered, the people go tea cold. The midnight wind passes through the city's airspace, brushes past the top of the flagpole standing on the playground, along the edge covered by street lamps and shadows, and winds into one unsleeping false dream. The ten-colored lights of the city, either flickering or slow-moving, are so strange that they sting the deep pupils of the night. Night heavy breathing and the gathering and scattering between the spread of the sadness of the clutch, responding to the hustle and bustle of the sky constantly dipped in neon, responding to the struggle in the constant catharsis of the lonely helplessness.
The night of the city, the shallow sleep deep sleep or not to sleep, more or less of the idea of decorative beads hanging all over the black curtain, gently wrapped around the restless soul, only at night, the soul of the soul to shake off the complexity of the cover, a root of gelatinous transparent tentacles such as branches trembling, around the corner of the building, over the flow of time, to search for a bit of light, to visit the foreign countryside, or have been asleep or still open the eyes of the close friends, to go back to the To visit the foreign country or has been sleeping or still open two eyes of the close friends, to recall the past years of the taste, to caress the memory of the flower tree under the light and shallow dream. If the night is just to stop and watch, if the night is just to sneer, how can someone's eyes be decorated with starlight, how can someone's fingertips turn around the moonlight.
I think Zhou Guoping said that in the city of a dusk, riding a bicycle, the line of sight across the road vehicles and pedestrians, stayed in the evening dark blue sky. The deep blue color made his soul feel as if it was involuntarily plunged into the blue universe diving into the bottomless abyss. As the sky grew darker and darker, he sank deeper and deeper, knowing that there was hope for his survival, but still letting himself sink. And "the orange streetlights, the traffic lights, glowed brightly against the backdrop of the deep blue sky, the magic of color, the dream of color. It stimulates the eyes, makes one think, hypnotized by the melody of light, caught up in the illusion." At this point, vision becomes a substitute for touch, which perceives the city on your behalf, the magic of the night, and the deepest part of your soul. The city's night is not useless. The sigh of the night will be filled with hymns of love, evil and sadness in the real and imaginary. Those who come out of the day's hustle and bustle, stepping on the afterglow of hope, into the confused and hazy night, perhaps coming to rest, perhaps towards conversion.
No matter what kind of night, looking back, you can always be at peace. So, when the night shrouded in the earth, when the night filled the breath, open a lamp, waiting for a companion, why not turn off all the lights, in the arms of the night, from now on with the night deep friendship. In this way, perhaps you can hear the water and poetry on the plains.
Prose Essay on Night 9After winter, the temperature dropped again and again, the sun is not online, the sky turned gray, the weekend all day in the house, no desire to go out.
After lunch, a coworker called to invite the evening to his home to eat dog meat.
In Zhuji, in addition to Cephalotaxus and socks, dog meat is also quite famous. I'm not a vegetarian, but there are still a few scruples about dog meat, not to mention that the locals are directly boiled meat with water, then dipped in salt to eat. This is for me this authentic Sichuan people is really a little difficult to swallow. But my coworkers were so kind, I didn't put it off.
Because of the geographic location, from ancient times to the present, Jiangsu and Zhejiang are more prosperous than those poor villages in Yunnan, Guizhou and Sichuan to prosperity, prosperity, money, so I heard a lot of people say that the locals here are looking down on outsiders. But when I was in this piece of land, all is another feeling. The people here are equally warm and kind, equally straightforward and humorous, and equally unstinting in extending a helping hand when you need help. I am really lucky to have made such a group of friends. My coworker is a delicate person, a separate braised dog meat, even if the Sichuan flavor is far away, the heart is also happy, happy blossomed.
Most of the people on the scene are the company's old cadres, I'm the juniors can not help but be fooled by them a round down, the dog meat did not eat anything, but seven or eight cups of wine has been under the belly, fortunately, red wine, or the consequences are unimaginable. Simmer to the end of the meal, has begun to dizzy. Back home, a sloppy wash on the sleep.
Waking up again at 1:00 AM, I can't believe that I can go to sleep and wake up in silence in this situation. In the past, it is not always love to use alcohol to go crazy? And now this? Yes, that's right, because there's no one to mess around with anymore, or no one to notice how much I'm messing around. Or, I really want to let myself go.
I didn't want to think about it, and tiptoed to the living room to get a glass of water and drink it, and then came back to the nest when I was unusually sober and sleepy. Is it because my drinking has grown? Or is there a bit of loneliness secretly growing in a corner? Unbeknownst to me, I'm always doubly careful in such nights, afraid of knocking over the dust of the past, afraid of uncovering dusty memories, afraid of the past uncontrollably rolled over in the eyes for fear of once again losing to themselves. It has been over the age of indulgence, it would be better to give time to some time, so that the life of the experience precipitation down, but also a calm and calm.
In order not to let the thoughts drift too far away, I casually take down a book on the nightstand, is Shakespeare's "King Lear", I dare say, this point to read the book really than any other time can concentrate on the spirit. Of course, I was hoping to doze off watching it, but it backfired. There still wasn't a hint of sleep until three hours later, when the whole book was finished.
I forced myself to turn off the lamp.
I was lying in bed with nothing to do when I heard the empty, distant sound of cars driving by on the road. The curtains were not drawn tightly, and the windows reflected those vaguely visible neon lights, like the eyes of ABC, like the smile of A, B and C. Such a night is silent, no excuse, but also lonely, I do not know the cold wind and blowing down whose tears, and blowing cool whose heart; I do not know where the hearts of those in the car, and can not wait to fly to who; I do not know those hazy street lamps who stumbled, and who is waiting. Such a night is long, indisputable, but also lonely. Like a photo torn in half; like a paper ticket not in time; like the back of his turn; like his fingers stroked my face. I just don't know whose hands he warmed this winter and whose forehead he kissed before bed.
I fell asleep at dawn, and strangely enough, I dreamed of my grandmother, my dearest and most beloved.
There was a ripple in my heart, an indescribable feeling of missing? I don't know when to start, what I'm haunted by and those years of silly obsession, naive waiting has not the slightest relationship. The original flash in the pan of bullshit love is just so, the heart of those who can not pass the hurdle in the end is also unable to fight the time, in I think I should not have forgotten when but has blurred that face, however, no matter whether it is sick, or drunk, or aggrieved, will not think of once there is a person how to lazily in my body, I was how how to obsess about his shoulders. In the past, some people thought to hide in the memory will be able to settle down from now on, who knows, the sun and moon frost, time flogging, everything can not withstand the weathering of the years. Those so-called can't let go is just their own willfulness, stubbornness, when you think this willfulness stubbornness seems boring and childish, or no longer suitable for your age to play when, will no longer exist. Sometimes it's just a matter of looking at the world from a different angle and seeing the world from a different perspective.
night prose essay 10I don't know when, has been diffused in the interior of the Moya Brennan's album has come to an end. The night, the silence.
In the quiet, I heard the sound of raindrops outside the window, this spring rain. Lifting the curtains, the window glass is covered with a layer of moisture, so it is difficult to see the world outside. Reach out and wipe away the cold vapor, the ground outside is wet and shiny because of the rain, the rain in the street lamps and neon lights, silk, fine as weaving.
This rainy night is so beautiful, the sound of rain falling, like heavenly music.
Such a night is good for dreaming, such a night is good for reading. I read books in such a night, under the soft light of the bed. See the moving place, concentrate on thinking. When you feel something, pick up the pen and notebook on the bedside table and record it.
The quiet and beautiful night, is the moment of thought, is the moment of soul purification. I read quietly, write quickly, record the trajectory of the mind walking on a rainy night.
Outside the window this pattering, dripping spring rain, so that the night is extraordinarily quiet. This world seems to be the only one I have not slept. This spring rain, so that the dry land for a long time gulp gulp gulp drink full of water, that is like an old man like wrinkles of the land, with the moisturizing of the spring rain, stretching the wrinkles, become young and energetic.
A few days ago, the plum blossom has been opened, although raised a smile, but dry and obscure. I think this night after the spring rain, this plum blossom is like a woman moisturized by love, shy and delicate. Watery and full, full and clear.
That by the fog and spring wind blew a layer of dusty grass, should also be wet, thriving vitality.
That willow tree, tender green and goose-yellow new branches, should also be giddy and crazy growth, due to joy and hand dance it.
The cherry blossoms, begonias, apricot blossoms, peach blossoms, and peach blossoms that just hit the bone are also vigorously breathing the breath of spring brought by the spring rains, and injecting vitality and passion into life. Dawning, so that they nourish, stretch and grow ......
And then wait for the wind to warm up a little bit, perhaps overnight, to catapult the tree full of buds, become a sea of flowers. When you are not ready, it is already delicate, charming, clean and delicate. A swarm of dazzling.
Spring is the season of tightening the fast running, belonging to the season of youth. Children are growing up fast, young people are vibrant, middle-aged people also seem to return to the past, the elderly also in the spring breeze, spring rain, spring flowers become like a child.
Spring is the season to be free from constraints, let's go out and enjoy the most beautiful April days on earth.
The rain is still falling. Under the lamp, I was touched by the spring in my own heart, and could not bear to go to sleep.
Night, so beautiful, so quiet. Because of the sound of raindrops, and more peaceful and quiet.