Urban

In early summer, the misty rain floating in the sky was caught with a little chill, just like the unrestrained sluice water. With the surging crowd of people, I squeezed out of the station and rushed into this rainy day. Staring around, it seemed like falling into another forest from one forest. The heavy traveling bags were so heavy that they could not stand up, and the numerous buildings made my heart unable to stretch out. Indifferent buildings, like rocks, stand coldly in front of us. Only the traffic and noise in front of us can gently tell the prosperity of the city. I raised my heavy steps, dragged my tired body, and looked at my indifferent faces one by one. Looking back on my hurried figures one by one, how many of them paid attention to the tears in my eyes? Who has ever paid attention to my lonely figure? My heart is like a boat wandering in the sea, drifting aimlessly with the current, without harbor for it, without navigation marks for it. No place in the vast city is my habitat, no goal, no destination to walk, no language, and no care. The noise of the city has nothing to do with me. I only live in my own world, occasionally I despise my eyes, and I repay it with the same eyes, just wandering aimlessly in the streets and lanes. Suddenly, a ragged boy came towards me and felt that he was the legacy of this city. From the bright eyes, it seemed that the innocence was incompatible with his life, this was the first persistent sight I saw in this city. Like me, he lived in his own world without sadness, disturbance, love and hate, and the boundary between life and death, live in a world that people can’t reach. Looking at him passing by limping, walking away gradually, looking at his back crazily. The night was getting thicker, and a faint sorrow streamed across my eyebrows. The cold drizzle did not stop. The bustling street lamp covered the sky with faint faint faint light, and there was a sad loneliness in the dense, and a trace of cold sadness poured out from my heart. Fold the mind into memory, and the endless sorrow has become a wet thread, gradually dispersed in the sad night, floating on the cold street with the drizzle. Holding half a broken pen tightly, I don’t know how to describe the sadness? This night, this world, a lonely shadow is finally hidden by the city lights. In the bustling city, who will pay attention to my tears and want to compose my mood into a song and sing it gently until the dawn. Praise on May 4, 2013 (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring

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