Independent world, glitz life

People are awkward, I am a confused dust, floating in the air, rising and falling with the wind. Lightly buckle the door of life, ask a question: Who am I?

Falling into the ground, a clear cry burst awakened the silence of the original silence. From then on, the wind chimes of life began to sound, and the notes such as Huang Zhongda Lu were straight through the sky. Toddler, new elephants, and knowing that everything will be destroyed, still inevitably surprised, looking at the world with a longing eyes.

Gradually, with the light and shadow, the flood of time slowly flows through and passes through a journey of youth. Youth is a song that breaks the five-word poetry. Relying on the dry, always love to scorn: last night, the west wind withered trees, alone on the high-rise, looking for the end of the world. Yes, my mind is in the sea, Zhibi is in the middle of the road, only because of the young road. Independent of the world, judging his fate, completely ignorant, has spent one after another simple.

In the meantime, the flower season has been forced into the distance. After the Bohai Sea, I am calm, and after the rain, the autumn is strong. The silkworms rushed, and a few thoughts, a few inches of love, shaken a place to prosper. The stage of the dying year is covered with dust by the years. The sky is very high, the ground is very thick, and the sweat that is swaying is bound to be clear. Quietly, write down the frost of life. Dust and smoke, the madness in the fall. Flint and electric light, a glimpse of everything, everything is gradually disappearing. On the road, the gown is still cool, but it has bloomed at the hottest temperature.

Time flies, Hua Hua has passed away, and memories are divided by messy time. The knot is a thousand, the sorrow is faint, the cold wave is fresh, and the lotus in the dream is remembered, but the dust that is fascinating is not forgotten. The belt is getting wider and longer, leaving a warmest one. After the flight, the clouds are light and the wind is no longer thrown away. The emotions of the past in the past are all forgotten, and everything tends to be quiet and tends to be dull.

When the flowers bloom, the butterflies fly, but the spring water does not hurt. In the end, when the dust is full of face, like a frost, the two distant and shadowy figures in the sunset, the hands of the hands, go to the end of time...

Everyone is a memory of the world, a life of glitz, if you ask who I am, I am a memory, collected in the guise of time, peeping into life in the gap.

First day: winter temperature