Alternating in autumn and winter, when it is not heated, this time is the most difficult.
Heaven, saying that cold is not biting, it is not cold, the wind blows people like the leaves of autumn, and it is bleak.
At this time, my hand will be more sensitive to the change of the season than my heart, rough, chapped, five fingers are very well-divided to split a small mouth, no more hand cream can not cure the crack wound. A force, there will be blood spots, streaks, pain, heartache.
Perhaps the only cure is not to touch cold water, but this requires that for a late cleansing patient, it seems a bit too harsh and extravagant.
It hurts, dry, maybe life is painful.
Daily, when twilight is getting stronger, dragging himself a tired walking on the way home, looking at the road on both sides of the leaves have withered trees, they indifferent vigil vast wilderness, though silent, but people feel life 's vicissitudes With heavy weight. In the faint autumn wind, even if it is a faint autumn wind, it will leave the embrace of the big tree, sway in the air, fly and dance, and finally fall into the earth. On the occasion of the reincarnation, it will complete its glorious mission of “turning into a spring mud and protecting flowers”. The departure of the leaves is not the pursuit of the wind, nor the preservation of the trees, but the reincarnation of life, the normal state of nature. The one that can't be left can't be stopped.
The night of late autumn came very early, I ate early, and got into the bed early. However, the cold air still invaded every inch of the skin, and the hand could not bear to stick out of the bed. Without the help of both hands, besides watching TV, do Everything is in vain, but you can't watch TV. You don't want your life to be spent on meaningless things. Then, in the future, you will not forgive yourself for being slack.
I still encourage myself to take out books, see something, write something, and let the mind get the warmth that can't be obtained in reality in the world of writing. When the soul has room to rest, the heart becomes calm and soft.
In the morning, when the dawn of the dawn has not yet climbed the curtains, I have already drilled the bed and started to embrace the new day. Although the warmth of the bed makes me infinitely in love, but the obsession with the good life will also hover in my heart. When you wake up you are not an alarm clock, but a dream , your future will be dyed with hope.
Qiu Qiu, always feel so much. Grab the tail of the fall, the last smile of the harvest.