Day after day, like building blocks, the city of memory you built is piled up tall and straight.
Time is a crazy tide. Step by step drowned in the past. You hurriedly stepped up to the present, looking into the distance in a panic.
You will still be fascinated in the sunset, and you will still like to miss the lush shade in the warm light at that time.
Old old dim colors. less than a moment. The soundtrack is as gentle as water waves. There are no lines, and there is no amazing layout and imagination. Just come and talk like this. "House of Building Blocks".
Touching the scene creates emotion, touching the object is sad. In the depths of your memory, there is the most precious treasure you treasure, the bright scars in the sleeping and bitter dreams, like the dew in the long flower stalk, like the tender stamen in the bright flower bone, every touch, the air-dried heart. become moist. They were dust-sealed at the bottom, shining in the black ashes of the night, with a cool temperature. You see another you, another, smiling you.
Don't be in a hurry to step into the distance, stop occasionally, and smile. But caring about the path, the sky is green and green.
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