I think there should be such a place.

An exquisite church

I think there should be such a place, perhaps in the warm and charming evening, the endless field of Miscanthus flowers, the wind blew gently, and the flowers floated, as if to the end of the world. There should be a gorgeous church there, with the pigeons at the top and the fly away after a while. The clock hanging on it moves around every minute. By the hour, the clock makes a sound, and the big pendants are shaken. The bells echo for a long time, and the birds are shocked. The windows should be made of crystal, crystal clear and give a slight flash. Exquisite carvings, white façades, such churches are fascinating.

Pushing the heavy door, in the middle is a statue of Jesus, the cross behind it seems to be able to elute all sins. There should be a pastor with a white beard, micro-volume, black and white interlaced hair, a black robe, and a dignified face. He opened the thick Bible and prayed piously in front of the statue, and the light of Hee was sprinkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the shadow of the pastor was slowly stretched...

There is a door on each side of the statue, one to heaven and the other to hell. In the door to heaven, there was a faint singer, white light. In the door to hell, it was a chilly night, which was prohibitive. Perhaps the scenes in heaven and hell are similar. The difference is that one feeds the other with a long spoon. The other is to feed the long spoon with his own hands. The hand is already deformed.

Stepping on the wooden stairs, gently rubbing the handrails, slowly going upstairs, making a slight noise. Go to the end of the steps, see the large and small rotating gears, and drive the rotation of the clock. The shadow of the clock is clearly reflected on the wooden floor, and the silver gears are yellow. A person stands quietly here, letting time flow, the clock turns. serene. peaceful……

Gently open the window, the sunset suddenly shines, the clock sounds, and the bird is shocked. The clouds in the sky, the shining dawn, the reverberating bells, the flying white birds, the floating flowers and plants, so time stops, the picture freezes...

Two quiet book house

I think there should be such a place, maybe in the quiet afternoon of the winter, on a few lonely streets, standing on a two-story duplex building, is a small book house. There are few pedestrians on that street, which is a bit bleak. The leaves are slowly falling in the sun, but fortunately, there is a book with the breeze. The warm sunshine sneaks into the clean glass and illuminates the dust we usually can't see. The golden dust danced like a naughty child until the dust fell. On the marble floor, the delicate patterns are dazzling. The wooden bookcases are neatly arranged, the spiral stairs are squatting upwards, and the quiet book house is fragrant...

There should be a quiet girl there, completely independent of the front of the glass, as if looking at something intently. Only seeing her side face and back, but in the white light of the sun, like an angel, then what should be the light behind it? She turned around silently, only to see her face. Wearing a school uniform and wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses, it is slightly reflective in the sun. The amber-colored eyelids hide a distinctive look, and the clear eyes are like the bottomless pool of water, which makes people guess.

The light spread, and the book house was bright and dark. It should be darker, and the place where the sun can't shine is dark; in the sunlight, the shadow left by the object is dark. There is a dampness in the shadows, like the blue moss in the corner...

The girl sat lazily in the chair and casually flipped through the books stacked on the table, silently, like a pointer that only had time to move slowly. After watching it for a long time, some were lacking. She got up and went to make a cup of fragrant milk tea, took a sip and put it on the table. The milk tea resting on the table was scented with a scent of scent. She exhaled a breath, as if it was slightly pale blue, blurring the girl's sight. She smiled and took off the glasses, wiped them with a mirror cloth, and then brought them. She read the book quietly, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning, occasionally helping her eyes, occasionally stroking a hair...

Winter warm sun, faint afternoon, exquisite bookstore, lingering aroma, quiet girl...

This is a picture, but not just a picture...

Three lonely rooms

I think there should be such a place, perhaps in the noisy night of the night, in the eight-story building, you can see the city in the middle of the night. There is a hint of scent in the air, deep into everyone's bone marrow, they laugh and run, inexplicably crazy. Even the darkest night before dawn, the neon will render it like a white, a feast, indulgent...

There is a slight awkwardness in the place, a feeling of incompatibility, like a trace of light left by the dark when swallowing everything. It should be at the highest level of the building. There is no light on it. It may be that the outside light is too bright and too glaring. There is no need to order it again. There was only one person in the empty room, no furniture, only a plastic round table, a scarlet sofa, several chairs and a single bed. The boys lay comfortably on the sofa with their eyes closed and drowsy. A few bottles of beer were lying on the bright floor, and they were scattered like a bowling ball. The sky-blue curtains reflect the colorful colors, and the thick soundproof panels downstairs still can't stop the spread of noise...

The boy scratched his fluffy hair, turned over from the sofa, sat in front of the window sill, leaning against the cold marble, and the laces on his feet were scattered on the ground. He reluctantly leaned down and tied, but saw Hiding in the darkness, a pair of eyes that glowed with faint light. A black shadow quickly smashed out, and the boy stunned. A black cat had already ran into his arms. He called two screams. He grabbed the black cat's fur and let it black. The cat licks his own fingers and sleeps in his own arms, like a spoiled one.

The boys squinted out of the window, seemingly have no feeling of the prosperity outside the window, a face that does not matter. The room was silent, there was no sound, only the loneliness was singing.

Small in the mountains, big hidden in the city...

Third day: Liu Baiyang