Life is like a slow flowing river, with occasional twists and turns, but a peaceful embellishment along the way; life is not art, what belongs to art in life is only For a brief moment. You have lost art, but not life; you have lost life, how can art be perfect.
I like to call the continuation of life life, like a big river slowly passing through spring, summer, autumn and winter. It is full of hope, so it is sparkling, it stretches in the past, so it is endless, it carries life, so it is not disturbed, its beauty lies in its plainness, its charm lies in its continuation. Life is always going on, life is always passing on, but looking back on the past, there are always thousands of emotions, just like an old fisherman waving the four-beat fishing method on the lake. sparkling.
In my memory are giggling children, in the torrent, under the eaves. You can do anything with no regrets, and you can daydream endlessly. Because you are a child, if you do something wrong, you will suffer a severe leash and bear the ignorance of youth; because you are a child, you don't know that your dreams are always just dreams, but you still have longing and hope. In my memory, the pastor's child was young and unrestrained, free at will. When he disappeared, it was like a piece of his heart was taken away. This is youth, how big, how small, how insignificant. Growing up is so painful, but no one will know how many inner storms have been buried by the years.
Some people grow up, but they do not understand the true meaning of life; some people do not grow up, but they live in life.
The river flows by your side so calmly, bringing you a verdant forest, taking away the hustle and bustle of the world, letting you settle in this golden sunshine, and letting the memory stay in the moment of your dreams forever.
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