We have no intention of discussing the flamboyance and lavishness in the city, let alone pointing and resenting the indifferent pedestrians, until one day, even for a moment, we believe that we have finally become the kind of people we once hated. The hatred of the environment, the injustice of the society, and the warmth and affection of human beings, we actually convinced ourselves, saying, this is actually not bad.
The city is your empty and empty heart. You use the crisscrossing roads as your veins, the endless flow of cars and water as your blood, the row upon row of tall buildings as your skin, and the troublesome work as your limbs. Crushed trifles as hairs.
On the street where you have no relatives, the cold wind blows by, you wrap your thin clothes tightly, and finally know that you are the person you are closest to.
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