[ Guide ]: With the light tone pulling, I climbed up the hill. The splendor in front of me shook my whole body. It turns out that there are yellow flowers on the back of the hill. A cigarette – red flower bud extends obliquely like your head hairpin. Hanging red, shuttling between the yellow seas, is getting faster and faster, leaving only a rainbow in the air.. The hot wind in June cut through the weight of the night. I looked down and searched for something. Some fragmentary fragments, flash in an instant, then die in an instant. Take the shadow and go to the square. A bridge spliced with wooden blocks, swinging load. Every time I pass by, I suspect that it will break, but no. Just like some days, it continues and will continue. In the dream last night, there was rain. Pushed open the half-closed door and looked at the dust of drinking at the table. Dust is my best friend. In the world of feeling, I have been floating and sinking for many years. Perhaps if I change my role, my inner strength will definitely lead to the permanent residence of stubborn stones.. In reality, however, there is no time or energy to influence some born silence. There is no space or time limit to remember the result of the heavy rain.. I was confused and couldn’t remember why I pushed the door and pushed in. We have to hypothesize that the reality is not satisfactory and flowers of comfort are blooming in our dreams.. Watercolor on the wall, diluted into splash ink, carries the heavy burden of life with a deep and shallow gray tone.. Mood, but in the clink with dust, gradually silent. Dreams passed through the youth again. The cabin with grey tiles and white walls, outside, is a piece of Shan Ye. Sloping cliff, a string of purple flowers and vines dancing lightly. The mountain wind blows, if the water hits the sound waves of the wind chimes, the flowers will fall down all the way. At that time, I felt like I came from the purple dream. There’s a strong smell in it that’s closing in on me. In my ear, someone vaguely said, ” Follow me.”. I climbed up the hill with the gentle sound. The splendor in front of me shook my whole body. It turns out that there are yellow flowers on the back of the hill. A cigarette – red flower bud extends obliquely like your head hairpin. Hanging red, shuttling between the yellow seas, is getting faster and faster, leaving only a rainbow in the air.. I stopped breathing. There is little peace in the closed eyes. I feel like I’m just a leaf floating on the water. The dry veins extend into the colorful world and sleep sweetly.. Tired, empty and helpless, all vanished in a flash. It’s a dream. But who can completely deny’ the saying of thinking in the day and dreaming in the night’? And after a pause, look at the occasional passers – by, sweat dripping under the weight and wetting the dust.. persist in. A belief. A broken branch, carrying a silent day. Perhaps, many things, like this tree, are broken and still alive. Just for one kind of persistence. The green leaves under the halo moon have an unknown dark color and light, and are deeply shallow. Caught in the bottom of my heart, like a shadow.Like the back when you left. Once, we went to a mountain. There are broken temples in the forest. Because of its long history, there is only one symbolic existence left. Stacked fallen leaves scatter the incense of the temple. The moss that climbs the wall fights with the years. But we, still devout prayer. Just to fill up a true answer in each other’s hearts. That year, Na Yue, that day. Some things, say, think, will be a lifetime commitment. However, the season missed. The pavilion flowers are all falling. A thousand – mile – long catwalk of reed flowers. Spread all over the sky. At the moment of music pause, between you and me, draw a complete rest. So your smile and your voice freeze in the lens. At the end of the long years, I waited for a kind of deep and shallow, heavy smoke and cold dew, another kind of red. But after many years, I finally realized that some things can be inadvertently forgotten and lost. By the time the memory woke up, there was nowhere to be found at both ends of the world. The wind, sleeve bottom. The thoughts of the night, there is always a spiritual fall. In the depths of the years, I thought, one end is tied to you, and the other end is holding me. The wind chimes hanging in the middle waved and rang. A sound. A desolate heartache. People have arrived in the square. In the noisy crowd, loneliness does not stop patronizing. After many years. I’d like to know, are you all right? Is the basket of hanging orchids by the window in full bloom? Unfortunately, I can’t be a poet. Otherwise, I can seize every leaf falling that autumn, and I can hold your soul night after night.. I call you with a pen and dream.