Years are like dreams, essays between your fingers.

People are in the rivers and lakes, and years remind people. In the world of mortals, there is no way. Right and wrong are too many to distinguish. True or false, too many to be sure. The only salvation, the only pure land, and only the peace of mind can create the elegance of life. . .

In the blink of an eye, the words turn into feelings one by one, hovering and freezing on the screen, waiting for the chaotic thoughts to return to peace. In the reading room, words come into view one by one, lingering in my mind and spreading, just like my own feelings.

Words have their own unique taste and cultivate a soul. Let the rolling world of mortals become invisible in an instant, and the mind seems to be independent and have different tastes. Writing has its own unique elegance and cultivates a sentiment. Let the hustle and bustle of the world of mortals instantly turn into silence, and the soul seems to be purified in Zen and enjoy an extraordinary Spring Festival. Words have their own unique aesthetics, which splash ink on a life. Let the world of fame and fortune disappear in an instant, and the mind seems to be suddenly enlightened, and it is another beautiful year.

Time is fleeting, and the only commemoration is the people, feelings and scenery in the story. Beauty is easy to get old, and the only memory is the smiles, feelings and photos in the pure white years. Time has passed, and the only record is the daily account in the diary, the repetition of day and night, the cycle of life, the confusion of emotions, and walking on the road. Time flies, the only comfort is that in the past memory, you and I met, I confided to you, you and I were dependent, and I fell in love with you. We, standing on the other side, looked like water passing by, turned around silently and wept silently. We, living in fleeting time, are quietly interpreting romantic stories, remembering the depth and forgetting the slowness and quickness. The impetuous world, the floating mind, can't find a harbor to dock. A variety of world of mortals, wandering mood, can not find an inn to stay. The prosperity of the world of mortals, the mind of living in groups, can not find a soul to know each other. Later, I finally understood from my own displacement that some things can't be forced; Some people are just travelers; Some feelings are unforgettable; Some fate, but not shared; Some love can't be abandoned; Some ideas, just look far; Some dreams cannot be realized; Some ideas are just illusions. Finally understand, some words, needless to say, since someone understands; Some feelings, do not have to stay, let nature take its course; Some people, don't wait, remember to turn around; Some love, needless to say, is affectionate; Some things don't need to be solved, and it will be clear when it is clear.

When the past is like smoke, when everything is blowing in the wind. When people have gone far, when dreams have been broken. When all the thoughts are deposited in my mind, when I am disheartened, I become the protagonist. . . We stood in the vast sea of people, lost our way, couldn't wait for that person, couldn't see the direction to go, and couldn't see the way to leave. At that moment, we curled up in a corner and buried our heads deeply, just because there was no warm harbor in the world of mortals, waiting for my return. No warm embrace, but it warms my life. Life is a fleeting time, think about it or not. Sadness has its own charm, whether you miss it or not. Words are bridges, whether you look at them or not. Mind, self-contained, melting, love or not. In the blink of an eye, words are quietly blooming on the screen, and what melts in my heart is the fleeting time. Blink of an eye, words gurgled on the screen, and feelings flowed in my mind. It is said that when God closes a door for you, he will open a window for you. Then, suddenly looking back, there are only words, waiting in the dim light. . . Pure white years, a frame of plain face, fell in love with words, lightly wrote down their own sadness, poured their deep affection, and tears were silent. Beautiful youth, a sad, quietly playing with their feelings, devotion to infatuation, invisible heart.