Spring *

Why is there a little coolness when the breeze blows over the face? A touch of fingertips, wet, feels salty. I always see the camphora trees on both sides of the road shed leaves in spring, which may also be one of them. It is obvious that they have passed the severe winter. Walking on the Boulevard, leaves were separated in pieces. They were green and red, but they still fell down. The Sound of crack and crack was their last breath. I can’t cover my ears, or even dare not. Someone has to bear the last sound. Because maybe a spring rain, maybe a road cleaning, they will lose their voice and eventually turn into a blank soil. I was the only one on this road. This road was so long that nothing happened except fallen leaves and nothing happened except fragmentation. Walk quietly, dare not look back, also dare not take out the phone to find someone to talk, is I need a quiet environment, or this environment needs me, maybe Tai Chi… Withering and withering are a choice. The chosen one is naturally good. As long as it is not painted with green paint, the one not selected is not bad. Naturally, let it return to dust, soil to soil, and return again, if the soul is reborn again, it may change its appearance, but the essence remains the same. No, maybe the nature of some leaves has changed, which may be more suitable for survival, but I still think the constant essence is what history chooses. Suddenly there was a fallen leaf in front of me, holding it with both hands. The unyielding soul made me tremble. It is telling, I am listening, Zi Qi and Bo Ya. Under mountain water. As if I heard something, I smiled and put it under a tree. This is what it expected, then I will finish it for it. Unconsciously, it was a long way to the end of the road, but I felt it was so short. Some sounds came from my ears. It was the voice of Spring Silkworms, the first love of tender buds, the gathering news and my heartfelt voice. Like (prose editor: drops of ink become wounds) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. I think, if I am a man, be accepted… From today on, I want to be happy I read “the biography of Hulan River” long time ago, and I remember that I was really in a heavy mood for a long time. Which characters caused me… Sick time I sneezed one after another these days. I said someone was reading me and others said I was sick. Finally, the doctor also said I was…