In the eyes of the person standing in front of us, in the memory that was associated with us, those who attended, followed the memory and suffered from amnesia. Take my hand or be alone. Those people we seem to know may indeed leave behind a shadow when they finally leave, but it is dark around, and even opening their eyes cannot avoid the coverage of their eyes.
Water and fire, within reach, are never compatible. Water is the sky, flowing in stillness. The sun is fire, penetrating in its rays. Whose hands finally lost their boundaries when looking up when they could only touch themselves.
Some news, some wind, blowing weeds that never had the chance to be praised by any word. Not insignificant. It is its subtlety that blinds the words that were originally responsible for exaggerating objects. For the message, I listened, but no sound came out. When bathing, virtual sentences follow under the bath of water, but this is as unreliable as the mist attached to a mirror. Mirrors are mirrors, mist is mist. Fusion also exists only temporarily for the poetic nature of the person who will speak. Finally, in the circulation of the wind, the short-lived vitality was finally dried. With a one in a billion chance, it will be able to get one step closer to distant Egypt. This sentence does not correspond to words, sentences, paragraphs, articles, but to our memories—Tutankhamun's shriveled, virus-filled body, still alive under the shroud?
With joy and the hope for the future, the glitter of the skirt ushered in the applause and blessings of the onlookers in the audience. Those words, from any corner of the world, can get exactly the same sentence trend through translation. Tears of happiness, as props in collective resemblance, do what they can. The earlier orgasm (oh, my god's arrival on the bed), this lady, that husband, they witnessed the inexorable sins of themselves and their soon-to-be-born children and their parents. They are expelled from "eternity" forever. Then the ugly and blind philosopher wrote an ecstatic open relationship for the safety of mankind, and Hiroshima was deserted and re-prospered as a colony.
In front of me, a road crowded with humans. The drunkard drank heavily, the lecher traveled in and out of the senses, and the poet threw himself into the illusion of words. I experienced the joy of being whipped in this happy human scene, and at one point, I fainted from pain. Unfortunately, the body doesn't really disintegrate. I submit myself to the control of the world-master with a fake death, and I cannot please it, because I have not truly sacrificed myself, challenged its authority, and made it shocking and terrifying at the sight of this returned animal instinct. Its mastery of the mysteries of life and death. Sexual abuse has never existed in the aesthetics of human hypocrisy. It is the collision of life and death, the gift of nature, it overcomes it, but is not satisfied, it waits. Waiting for another stronger one to devour it.
Just like that, one urination after another is flushed into the pool under the toilet, and since it's going to be flushed away, it's destined to disappear, so what else is there to describe about the uplifting (disgusting) smell of urine. ? So why are those people still chasing emotions that are the same as, or even shorter than, urine on white paper. If emotions are red, symbolizing blood, then black fonts are indeed self-righteous after suffering from dementia. The water under the corpse, the expansion of vitality. Those who despise, never seem to urinate. never loved.
I looked in the mirror, took out my ID card, opened my passport, and stared at the group photo posted on the refrigerator. The whereabouts of the soul is unknown. But the gaze, in the tiredness of self-loathing, was like someone who had just learned to swim finally got close to her (ta) pupil. Before starting another submerged 100-meter breaststroke, I—Paganini, slender fingers—cumbersome words, a big horizontal press beyond the reach of ordinary people. I - Beckett, the "two" in the play he wrote, in the midst of life's predicament, exudes the hardships of love and the nihilism of love - radiance - never treated right by quarrels, almost despair brought vitality.
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