Bloom

There are two pots of camellia on my balcony, one called red and one called green.

Spring, red and ambiguous to be released, the most lively few have been first bloomed on the branches, green and lush, no movement, no green.

The red is getting brighter and brighter, and the flower is red like a girl's delicate lips, which makes people unable to bear. The other pot is still so lush.

Thank you red, green is still so lush, every year.

In winter, the red is not over, but the green is tenacious, but it has died in two years.

I don't hate green, even though it doesn't bloom. I am just a pity, pity it. Maybe it can live a little more, it can be more comfortable, but it is not red happy, red is at least brilliant, at least can leave a touch of red in people's minds, at least in the world to leave a proof that it existed. But what about you, green? You come and go long, you are unknown, even if it doesn't exist.

People live for a lifetime, can't just sneak up, at least I am not willing, I have to leave something to prove myself! When we are young, it is time to bloom and fight! We have to fight together! No matter what the outcome, what kind of flowers, we should all work hard to bloom!

This year, two pots of new camellia outside the window seem to have a power to brew.

The second day: Some things can't understand