I like the extreme randomness, I like the colorful colors, and I like the invisible brushstrokes.
It has been a long time since there has been a story that can reach the moist corner of my heart, and I was moved to tears.
Vivienne is a well-behaved name. She walked out of the bright, messy room with heavy make-up on her face. She never knew that every step she was walking led to something she had never touched. The glamorous and soft and elegant world.
Vivian said: When I was young, in the attic, I always imagined that I was a princess. The samurai who came on a white horse, waved his long sword and climbed to the top of the tower to rescue her.
In the world of fairy tales, Edward is always the prince's name. He is calm, personable, and successful in his career. When Edward was searching in the eyes of the fountain of loss, he found Vivian on the street, a beautiful woman from the wind. She blooms on the street like a full rose.
It is rare that Edward "Prince" is not a person who is incomprehensible. He is busy with work non-stop, yet he still knows how to live. In the exquisite life, his body exudes a kind of temperament. Even a word, a look in the eyes, are all talking about the connotation of this silent man. He reminds me of nut chocolate. After being finely ground, closing your eyes and turning it in your mouth will make you smell mellow and taste rich chocolate. Instead of the cocoa butter substitute peanut chocolate in the canteen.
There is a gap between them called connotation.
It just so happens that Vivienne used to be that piece of cocoa butter peanut chocolate. During the seven days of getting along, Vivian's innocence and straightforward gestures moved the silent man. She was reading him, so in the process she read about herself. She learned to change her style, she learned etiquette, and at the same time she learned to maintain her dignity. This is a growth process from the outside to the inside. This process is like a piece of beige flannel, light and not surprising, but thick and warm.
When I saw Vivian leave for dignity for the first time, my heart hurt. It's the kind of pain in love. It's not sadness, despair, or loss, but the sound of the soft cracking in my heart when I want to speak and silence each other. At that time, their flower of love had already bloomed.
I still feel pain in my heart when I see Vivienne kiss the sleeping Edward. It was a kind of pain with a slight joy, and they finally broke through their inner doubts, they were paying affection for each other. You can open your heart to love and don't care about the ending. It's a beautiful and simple state.
Seven days are full, Vivian said, I got to go. Edward said, stay tonight, not because I'm paying, because you want. Vivian said, no, I can't. She can't stay, she can't be greedy, she always has to go. At this time, Vivian has grown from a girl to a woman, a person who understands.
The ending is satisfactory, Edward gave Vivian her fairy tale.
Love is a flower.
In fact, this kind of indescribable feeling is not just the two processes of love and love.
It is a shy plant.
When you like it, it quietly grows flower bones.
At the right temperature, at the right time, it will open. That was the climax of this little plant's life. It drove very enthusiastically, and he drove full of vitality, as if he could see its growth every day. This is an extreme process. This is the feeling called love that I read in Baby Annie's book when I was young. And I thought it was not love. It is the most exciting drama of a scene, the passion is polished here, men and women find unforgettable memories here. It may be expressed, it may be hidden deep in the heart. However, every inch of emotion in this process is extremely sensitive, every entanglement is heartbreaking, and every warmth lasts forever.
This is a process after liking and before loving. It has no name, it is fiery and gorgeous.
However, the flower always has a depressed day. When it gradually loses its power to burst, when the once delicate petals wither and fall, it is another world. The
flower is a bridge, and there will be true love after crossing this bridge. The name of that kind of love is called "holding." The hand of the son, grow old with the son". very beautiful. Beauty is a simple but profound state.
Not every side of the bridge has unlimited scenery. The peach blossom tree blooms year after year before it bears fruit. When the impulse and passion recede like a tide, you will ask yourself, would you like to go on holding hands with this person? At this time, you don't think about money, appearance, or anything irrelevant. You are just willing to take care of her, willing to accept all her bad things, willing to be by her side, hoping to look at her smiling and hope that she will be happy. Just ask yourself this, and you will know whether you love her after liking, and that period of indescribable agitation.
Then there will be love. Love in the true sense.
Love begins with fruit.
The flower then bears fruit, then it is complete. Those days that are as plain as gurgling brooks are the most real, the happiness that can be touched.
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