Time is just fingertip sand.

时间: 作者:呦西!

   Time, whether viewed from a distance or viewed from a near distance, is ethereal, just like the thinking in my heart. I can't see or touch it, but I have myriad feelings..

   -inscription

   Time is just sand on the fingertip, the elegance and elegance that cannot be grasped, the dust that cannot be lifted, the sunrise and sunset, and the white hair in an instant. No matter what you are doing or thinking, she is merciless, as if ignoring your existence, passing through your side coldly, and even unable to bring a corner of your clothes, while you are getting old in an instant..

   See the children grow up, see the wrinkles on their faces grow up, see the green tiles on the wall crumble, see the withered vines fall off, the wind blows, the snow comes, inadvertently, spring, summer, autumn and winter are another cycle, only their hearts are still in place, they have nothing to gain, they have nothing to bear, the traces of coming are overgrown with thorns, the future road is still confused, the days are so boring, who invented the word loneliness, let a person deeply touched..

   I can't imagine how the ancients suffered their lives, how they grew old day after day, how the long tune and the small decree were always deeply sentimental read in level and oblique tones. The night was always long, the flute was always sad and mild, the story happened and ended, countless romantic affairs and endless lovesickness were also written. A spring and an autumn, history thus deduced the life of ups and downs. Today, no one can recall the love story of waiting, or disappointment. Behind him, there was a clear dream..

   Countless days, the pointer of time is always cold, the ticking makes people flustered, dare not neglect the time, but the time leaves people behind, sighing, only their own hearts can hear, dare not tell what, aging, sooner or later, is also a matter of heart, helpless.

   The path that met that year, the saplings on both sides had already reached the sky. I always hoped somehow that the branches and leaves on both sides could bend and hold hands. How much sorrow did the tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined tree-lined with? The leaves are green and yellow, and the heart is aging year by year. Maturity may not really be the aging of the face, but the eyes that were once hot and dry are as plain as water, fading away the passion and the hope..

   Time is not used to count. We measured our journey with our feet, but we did not know how many pairs of shoes we had worn out. Admittedly, our feet could not speak, but the thick cocoon and the worn-out scar were all indomitable testimony. Everyone was an ascetic monk in Chasing Time. His devout heart kept moving forward and he could not see the hardships of the road dust at his feet..

   All the life stories have been folded and turned into ravines on the face. Without passion, every afternoon, all you can read is plain and long heart books. Deep in time, there are still ripples across the memories without lines.?

   It is said that time is like a song. Is time really like a song?? All the way is melodious singing, or sad lament, who understand the taste, life is so complicated, hard to understand, difficult to cut, faint, faint, can't think of can't see through, product can't write is not complete.

   Swaying in the wind and messy in the rain, I always want to close my eyes and stay away from the hubbub. May everything in the world of mortals go with the flow of nature. Passers-by will always be passers-by. When you come, I greet you with my heart. When you go, I send you in silence. I am no longer a young me. I have experienced many vicissitudes of life. I have been settling down and trying hard to watch flowers bloom and fall, and people come and go. I am still calm..

   The hustle and bustle of the world of mortals, everyone is living through, vicissitudes of life face, melancholy eyes, the heavy feeling of walking, all the difficulties of the trip, smile is always too far-fetched, palm is always written with clear and cold, spring, summer, autumn and winter cycle, the heart is also getting old in circles, time covered with withered vines, worry messy in the wind, crumbling, so the fresh soul has become a shell.

   The years on your fingertip, the sand you can't hold, the flowers blooming, the dead leaves stepping on, it's hard to write sadness in your heart. It's helpless to wait for old age. Some Exhalation himself can't explain why. The world once clear in his eyes can only be faced with silence now. Where is the time??

   My white hair, my wrinkles, my dry hands, my falling turbid tears, and my increasingly bent hunchback, dare not face it, but they regard themselves as statues in the swing of the clock, often choking without thinking.

   As the years get older and life becomes less impetuous, more heavy and more silent, how many past events can be remembered with a smile in inside? What is left in the deepest part of my heart, is it covered with dust, solidified or has it quietly disappeared?? Don't say forget, is never think of, maybe old can really cheer up everything, can use calm eyes staring at the distance.

   I have had the most real smile, the deepest wound, the most persistent feeling and the most tenacious heart. Now everything is so calm, like flowers blooming quietly and serene like floating water and duckweed. This is life. The beginning and ending are the same, and the process also precipitates with time..

   Time, whether viewed from a distance or viewed from a near distance, is ethereal, just like the thinking in my heart. I can't see or touch it, but I have myriad feelings..

   May have a true heart, can go back to the original clear, like sunshine, my heart knows that it is eager to warm, eager to light, can live in the blue sky frankly, eager to embrace every moment with the most warm heart, until the old with a smile.

   Many people have told me not to think too much about everything. Learning to be a inattentive person can help you sleep soundly at night. In fact, your heart is so big that you can really try to throw away things that have expired. Only in this way can you accept new things, including your own mood, and you can have a completely refreshed and relaxed journey. Even if you get old, you are also an elegant gesture..

   Precipitate, hope in which dusk, the dignified life will open wise flowers in the annual rings. More eager to take a piece of A Quiet Heart, watch the flowers bloom and fall, watch the moon with stars such as withered vines or new sprouts, make noise and dust, and find a spiritual home for the complicated life..

   There is sand on the fingertip, gently lifting her. She is so alive, sunny and in a good mood. She goes with time. Even if she cannot catch up with her steps, she will not waste her trip to the world of mortals..

   A drop of ink makes a wound.

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