The bottle of green rose in front of the window seems to be drunk, drooping branches and leaves, immersed in this empty and rainy scene. For a long time, I did not take care of it, only gave it enough water. I believe that the wind will send the message of flowers, the rain will give it moisture, and the month will treat it as it was.
In such a season, people can not help but produce a kind of laziness. If you are too lazy to cut flowers and plant grass, or listen to the wind every month, or look at the rain to send thoughts, it is better to rely on books.
The book has its own place to repose, no more than hidden flowers, trees, mountains and stones. Good reading! There are no more worldly sophistication and intrigue in the book. Even if they exist, they are all stories of others.
Standing on the edge of history, I quietly watch one event after another. From prosperity to the end, emotion to depth, a sketch, two or three points of description are recorded. But many times, I do not want to participate in the process, even if only a spectator, also do not want to listen. I just want to find a place for the soul from the book, enjoy the flowers by leaning on the clouds, stroll around the flowers, make music with poetry and tea, which is not a waste of my life.
Maybe I dont want to be in the world. That kind of far away from the hustle and bustle, retreat peach garden days, only dream, square real touching. I like this kind of words. Its also my own mind. It makes people read it closer and feel like a bosom friend.
Most of the time, we love reading, in order to fill in the blank of our own thoughts, more to find ourselves from books. Do you need to look for it?
People should have the heart of fireworks. Too vague, always unreal. I would also like to cook a pot of hot soup and a pot of tea in the cold night on a plain day, waiting for my lover to return and share a dinner under the light. Even if I have plain clothes and plain food, I will not feel bitter. When you are free, you usually plunge into the world of your soul and exchange your cup with your confidant in the text.
The heart of the literati is delicate and sensitive. It is sad for the withering of a flower and a grass. It is also sad to be sensitive to the samsara in spring and autumn. Maybe the secular people cant understand it, but I always believe that the soul needs to inhabit.
In fact, loneliness is also a kind of beauty. A person, without the same kind, why need the same kind?
Always said that if life is just like the first sight, I think it really does not have to, the passing away may not be good, not belong to you are doomed to leave. And the future, need to be a stable and warm heart to meet, to face. This is the time of compassion, do not be surprised, also do not have to regret, all of the time will remember.