Talk about the old road.

Summer night is the stage for cicadas to sing. Outside the window, the fragrance floats. In the moonlight, it is dusk, the trees are mottled, and some women can be seen vaguely. At this time, there will be a strange feeling lingering in my heart.

0 1, we are all getting old.

Is it because of the sentence: "to see the sun, for all his glory, buried by the coming night." Ended in sorrow?

Maybe not, because getting old is a process of slowing down. From thinking about the past, to the past, such as silk thread, turning it into reality, you will find that you don't seem to be old, as if your youth was yesterday.

Even so, the years are ruthless, and unconsciously, the wrinkles on the temples and foreheads have been frosted. In fact, this ancient flavor has lingered in the depths of time and life for many years.

No one can avoid vicissitudes of life. Every day, we are busy in the triviality of life, and it is helpless to watch the Spring Festival come in a hurry and the youth go in a hurry.

In the noisy world, everyone walks alone, from dawn to darkness until the dead of night, only in the corner of the night, in the hazy time, to sort out the rush of the day.

Calm down is a good thing. This time is often the most relaxing time for me. I feel very calm and poetic. I like to sit quietly in a corner, make a cup of green tea, filter out the clutter of the day, leave a shallow tea fragrance and nourish my body and mind.

Tired, you can let go of the world of mortals, temporarily empty yourself, be an idle person, pick up stories in time, integrate your thoughts, sketch every detail, write down a paragraph, and leave your feelings and tenderness in it.

The dead of night, a quiet. On a cool day, if you open the window, turn on the desk lamp, let the light fall on a book, read a story of others word by word, and compare your own time, you will have a lot of feelings.

Every time I read it, I feel a little sad. What stuck in my heart was not that sentence, but my own personal experience. Because I know, I feel the same way.

Although we have never been old, we are all on the way to old age, and we still have a long time. Go slowly, the years are long, and you can delay the time according to your mood. Even if you face the vicissitudes of life with a smile, you will slowly walk into memories. In retrospect, life is actually beautiful.

No one can admit that his life is pale and has no memories.

02, moss introduction, wind chimes under the eaves, memories are an uneditable landscape.

Looking back on the past, the eventful years are heavy, how many thoughts are hidden in the reflection of fleeting time, and how many thoughts are buried in the deepest part of time.

Now, gently open the memory, my heart is warm and sad; Quietly uncovering a corner of time and peeking at the past is both beautiful and painful.

Perhaps, after middle age, on the way to getting old, everyone has a confused mood.

As we all know, some memories and time will not be remembered for us, and only we will hide them in our memories.

Undeniably, memories are like dreams, and the flowers you meet bloom and fall, and the beauty that once bowed your head, turned around and woke up, is already a thousand years later.

In my memory, the most unforgettable thing is meeting in time. Greeting the warmest softness in your heart with deep affection is a kind of hope to welcome the spring flowers and a kind of joy to look forward to the harvest when the flowers fall. The shadow of the moon falls on the edge of the pool, and the comfort of passing by the window is a kind of tenderness that directly touches people's hearts.

Yes, memory is a book. When you look through it, all the beautiful things are treasured in it.

Every time I feel nostalgic, I make myself younger in my memory.

Yes, even the best youth is gone. I was fascinated by middle age and dreamed of time. The most fascinating intoxication in the world is being immersed in memories.

That kind of beauty, compared with Nalan Xingde's sentence: "Who thinks that the west wind is cool alone, and the rustling yellow leaves close the window and miss the ancient sunset?" Among them, delusion is also full of poetry.

Time flies, don't be sad, meet in the most beautiful time, smell a wisp of flowers, and deeply dye the fragrance of your heart; The touch of lightness and breeze, the warm heart of fragrance.

In the scenery of life, forget yesterday's unhappiness, outside the pavilion, beside the ancient road, the grass is blue, the sky is blue ... there are always some poems that nourish the lonely feelings; It is a common practice that the past cannot be traced. The past is unbearable. In the moonlight, there are always some past events, which decorate life with regrets and soften time.

"It's a stormy night, I can't hear the song clearly, and I'm crying." There are always some melancholy in life that make you feel lost.

"Even if there are flowers and moons, there is no wine and no one." On a windy and moonlit night, there is no need to bring my shadow, so that the three of us can be together, but the mood fluctuates into a fallen flower.

"Under the west window, the wind shakes the bamboo, and it is suspected that it is an old friend." There are always some thoughts, which become a wisp of fragrance and a heart flower and bloom silently in the depths of time.

I often invite the moon alone, make a wish on the stars, splash ink on the spring and autumn, and sing with the shadow; Always hold your heart and drink with your heart.

Because, those young people who are drifting away have become simple, only to see their backs drag on longer and longer, that is their time and mood.

We only visit the place where memories are formed occasionally.

Walking on the road of getting old, I like myself at the moment and miss myself in the past.

I am a memory master. Perhaps, life has too much helplessness, too many joys and sorrows, and too many sorrows to bear and record.

When nostalgia becomes a classic disease, we are terminally ill in our memories.

Perhaps, in memory, there are bitterness of life, sweetness of life, emotional sadness and simplicity of the past, all of which require us to savor, relive, sort out and warm everything in the past with the emotional warmth of the old dreams.

If life is just like the first sight, why draw a fan in the autumn wind? If there are not so many joys and sorrows in life, so many nostalgia, so many spring and autumn sorrows, so many sadness and loneliness, then, if there are no memories, how will our feelings and feelings be placed?

On the way to old age, we like to decorate our dreams with memories, fill our loneliness with feelings, express our feelings with words, watch fireworks in our dreams, and indulge ourselves in encounters with old times.

Although memories are always sad, the beauty left behind is still fragrant, and I can't extricate myself from my own memories. Or, is this a kind of happiness, a kind of beauty?

When people are old, they love memories, and memories are beautiful. Walking on the road of getting old, I hope that the lost years can become beautiful memories in our hearts and stay in life forever.