It was dark all around. I couldn't see far away, or even the faint light on the other side of the river. The heart was covered with a heavy cloth of gray, earthy gray.
Walking alone on the street, laughing people passed by from time to time, in twos and threes, walking in pairs. A car whistled and sped to the road that has no end in the black. The depression in my heart makes me feel that all this is dazzling and blinding. I wondered if I should be on a deserted corner, either crying in a low voice or venting out loud. In short, should not be this look of unperturbed 'appearance.
However, this is the magic of time. I'm no longer a naughty little girl who easily spills her guts and heartache, and the passage of time has brought not only an increase in age, but also the glorious passing of those years, so frivolous that it can be floated and flown, and so heavy that it can't be picked up. Can feel just by the black hole of time constantly engulfed, non-stop backward, away from ...... heavy to even memories will also heartache.
"It was the season of light, it was the season of darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of disappointment; we had everything, we had nothing; we were all going straight to heaven, we were all going straight in the opposite direction." Age has also given me a deeper and deeper understanding of Dickens' words, that light and darkness are the same, that hope and disappointment are the same, that spring and winter are the same, and that even the so-called heaven and hell are just a thought away. And this "one thought" is the heart.
The heart is small, all the small things will be big; the heart is big, all the big things will be small. If you can't see the world as it is, you will be able to live in peace and security.
Find an unoccupied bench, leaning against a potted plant to sit down, surrounded by a hustle and bustle. The melody of the square dance is screaming, the crowd is swaying, the hourglass of time is quiet, slow, flat, not urgent and not slow, silent flow.
In the distant darkness, a few stars emit a bright, slightly drunken light, which contrasts sharply with the lights of the nearby homes, appearing both powerful and fragile.
Gazing at the starry sky, when the gods traveled too far. Suddenly remembered Gibran's "Sand and Foam" in the sentence: "People in the society is as tiny as sand, things are as unreal as foam." Think carefully about the heart of the matter of depression, at the moment feel much more relaxed, after all, I am still, although like a bubble, but also the real existence of the world in this world, taste the world of flavors.
The yearly refining of the heart, happiness, by the heart not by the situation.
All around the dark, not far from the building sporadically lit up a few lights, like the eyes of the night, warm and cozy. This light is enough to uncover the heavy gray cloth in front of my eyes, I finally see clearly, but also finally see this earthly hundred flavors of the road of necessity of the sorrows and struggles. At this moment, I just want to raise a cup about the bright moon to drink, wine, and stranger red dust *** drunk, *** words this plain and precious!