Small attic in the park

In a park, I suddenly saw a small attic. My eyes lit up and seemed to have come to another world. I quickly rushed in. After I entered, I saw a row of wooden chairs facing me, and a picture of the Qingming River on the wooden chair. Looking back, there are four doors on the wall, two windows on the left and right. There are two chairs and a table on the left and right. Unwitting people must think that they have crossed the ancient conference hall. I often come to this attic, and I slowly have deep feelings with the attic. I have to go to stay for a while every week. During the day, I like to sit in the attic and read a book that makes me feel the tears, or close the eyes and listen to the wind blowing the pages of the book. At this time, my heart was calm and fulfilling. I like this feeling. At night, the attic was so quiet in the gentle moonlight of the moon, and occasionally there were three or two sounds of jaundice, and you could hear the ambiguity if you had nothing. At this time, I became a literati who came from the edge of history, clothed Confucianism, and rode a thin horse. Or an old tea drinker in an ancient street teahouse, losing the years and changing the world.

First day: llwer