Part 1: To be time to boil into the time of lovesickness
Again, I want you, the heart, thin into a small red bean, let lovesickness torment, into a long and gentle.
The wind is blowing, and the warmth of the wind is so warm that you can tell me what you want to do with your heart.
I want to think of you, is silent. In the wind that passes by, in the ear. Every one of these days, I just want to sit quietly, the heart, is empty, empty of any mundane distractions, the heart, is also full, full of heart only a you. With the eyes, to be the world of change, only some of the scenery to stay, the small town is still tile blue sky, low-hanging willows on the river, the fine texture of the green stone plate, and, the wind in the inches of acacia, inch by inch, inch by inch, slipped through the ears, into the heart into the bone.
Thinking of you, is silent. In the hustle and bustle of the crowd, between the eyebrows. Always in the evening when you go out, face to face, eyes at ease, with lightweight comfortable clothing, the day's fatigue all faded, slow walk to the hustle and bustle, but also to the heart of the quiet and serene. As in the past, the lively square, walking the elderly, playful children, energetic groups of square dance team, all kinds of entertainment, all kinds of faces. Just like that, take a walk, to the crowd, to the hustle and bustle. Heart, is quiet, quiet only leave you a speech, a cruise, heart, quiet into the world of you alone, quiet, condensed roaming time, into a brow of a cluster of love, a cluster of love.
Thinking of you has become the most beautiful thing, posture and peace of mind, thinking of all kinds of feelings.
This is very light, light like a feather, softly pasted on my heart, light, gentle, natural, this feeling, just like your tenderness, always in my lonely when the haze of the heart will be properly placed, and to be soft care. And very heavy, heavy like a thousand pounds, so solid, so heavy, like your strong arm or warm palm, without hesitation to pull me to, even if it will be suffocated, even if you have to go through the fire also to be drenched in the pouring.
This lovesickness, boiled into a tea in a vein of incense, along the hot water, along the edge of the cup, dispersed out of a long and quiet. It is also a cup of leaves, green coloring, flooded with green light, gently dialed slow twist, bubbling and boiling, dyeing a good posture in time. Sip a mouthful into the throat, light bitterness, persistent, mouth and teeth, like this acacia, acacia thick to bitter, long time, only to know, this heart is sweet, such as a bend in the spring, through the color of acacia.
Take this Acacia, into a flavor material to cook. A congee and a dish of idle life, provoke the taste buds, panning rice, choose vegetables, cooking, taste, will be little by little love shelves which, from raw to cooked, from shallow to deep, the fire baking, to be ripe on the table, a bowl and a dish, a congee and a dish, alone is the heart will be enough to enjoy. Into the stomach, warm heart, this love, but also into the body, surplus, rippling, narrative a warm.
Time, day by day, light, and slow.
Early in the morning will be the hustle and bustle of hawking to wake up, there are intermittent birdsong, a sound, a sound, stagnant in the window mantle. The morning of the day, always smiling slightly at the other self in the mirror, cleaning sleepy, private meeting with flowers, and then go downstairs to buy fresh vegetables, take care of themselves, and occasionally a small gathering with a few friends.
Often curled up on the sofa in the balcony in the middle of the afternoon, reading a book can get a good share of the time, flipping and stopping, jot down a few words. The sun is not stingy, can be the entire living room are illuminated, warm, slightly hot.
The evening is always a time to relax, or writing, or chatting, or quietly listening to a song.
Always thinking of you, thinking of you.
When you smell a flower, when you sit in meditation, when you cross the street, when the sun is warm, when the raindrops fall on the window, when you chat with your friends, when you write.
Delivering the heart to this slow time, delivering to you. The time will be transformed into a note, boiled into an inch of love.
Part II: Love in Time
I forgot how to wake up from the chaos, and when I opened my eyes, it was a world full of excitement, and the time was turned into a navigational cloud, far away from the dome in the lead, with the eyes of the camera, recorded along the way, or bright or beautiful scenery, made into a bookmark in the memory of the bookmarks.
Teenage * prosperous spring
Spring is full of flavor. April wind still with a tender breath, swept through the foot of Mount Fuji stretches of cherry blossom forest, Ueno's cherry blossom park has long been full of red, eight heavy cherry blossoms in the branches, curled vines have stretched to the limit, with the spring breeze of the footsteps of the dance and dance.
Cherry petals softly left the heart of the stamen, swimming in the wind. Whisked by the Tokyo Tower, floating over the Rainbow Bridge, through the jagged buildings, no matter, the background is flooded with how cold and harsh metal luster, as long as it passes through the place, are stained with tender red color, prohibit the grey infestation. Like a young man's clear and clean eyes, full of the most sincere emotions and heart, with a dream during the courtesy, the soul of the young man, like the delicate cherry blossoms, several times flying in the indefinite space and time, but also not extinguished the true nature.
Kiss a petal of cherry blossom, in the second before she faded, printed the most beautiful simple scenery of the teenage era.
Youth * summer
The sun is hot. The sun burns the earth and seems to vaporize its blood. Stopping in the streets of Khornish to watch the waters of the Nile flood at your feet, the river like the hand of a goddess brushing over every bit of scorched mud. The streets of Cairo are a bit cluttered, but the people here are very unconcerned because there is always a distant view of the ever-flowing Nile.
Stepping on the gravel of the scenery, trembling cheeks gently touch the rough but hot surface, as if kissing the pharaoh's forehead. The style to mottled Division, through the millennium of the face of several easy to change, but always solid, as the youth stubborn and tough character, overflowing with the most bold breath and passion, their resolute eyebrows, as if the masonry of the eternity, even if the experience of a thousand years, but also not to lose the light of the serious shine
Pyramid of the hot sun, standing firm, the sun will be carved into the youth of the era of the most exciting, the most vigorous scenery
The sun will be carved into the youth era of the most exciting, the most vigorous scenery
The pyramid of the hot sun, the sun will be carved into the youth era of the most exciting, the most vigorous scenery
Middle age * prosperous autumn
Fruitful. Autumn seems to have spilled the thick soup, splashed on the infinite tantalizing sea cloth of Haikou, a splash is a splash of heavy color, the snow waves in the holiday coast, the sea horizon if far away if near. Deshengsha dark brown planks of the street, along the ancient building all the way to extend the station on the ancient building to look at, as if Xiuying ancient fortress near at hand
Casually walking on the ancient road, sniffing the fragrance emanating from the garden of ten thousand greens, it seems that a stretch of the arm can be fished, like a stroll on the beach people's faces iconic smile, and so it seems to have forgotten the time, forgotten the place, there are so many heavy implications of turning back, ten thousand greens from the Cultivator, calm and collected. Like middle-aged to slow down the pace, want to savor the picture along the way. Their calm face, like the streetscape of Deshengsha, just one glance will make people feel at ease
Embrace the whole city, breathe in its fragrance, pouring the most stable and mellow landscape of the middle age.
Older* Winter
Snow. The first snowfall of winter, not big, but enough to delight everyone, Moscow in fact does not see a lot of snow, just this one, sang the head. The waterfalls on the outskirts of the city roar as if they were playing an ode to winter.
The sunshine of the first clearing of the broken sprinkled down, through the spire tower is a fine separation, randomly stand at which an intersection to look out, here is always more wise than crazy, quiet cover over the hustle and bustle, people walk leisurely, as if they have experienced too much, have not had to rush to chase. The harmony is the same as the serenity of the elderly, grateful for the time they have left to cherish. Their loving eyes are like the warm afternoon sunshine in Moscow. It's a great way to get the most out of your life, and it's a great way to get the most out of your life.
Shake hands with everyone, feel every kind smile, and collect the last comfortable scenery of the old age.
Like Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, life's landscape bookmarks are pasted around the world, a vague recollection of a page in Shanghai in the dead of winter, picking up the drifting snow, the mind flashes through the Tokyo Yaezakura, the pyramids of Cairo, the streets of Deshengsha, Hainan, and then look up and gaze at the Moscow God similar to the flurry of snow, and then feel as if an instant experience of a reincarnation of - the world is again The first time I've seen this is when I'm in the middle of the night.
The landscape of life still needs to be picked up.