Ask for love words about the first snow

From a distance, the mountains have no edges and corners, the trees have no color, and they are all empty. Sitting by the water, leaning under a tree and closing your eyes, you can smell the faint water vapor in the air and hear the gentle sound of water, like a butterfly flying gently in your ear, pattering. As if I were about to hear that beautiful melody. The voice seems to be floating from a distance, with endless reverie and inexplicable sadness.

It's like walking under a plane tree in autumn. There are plane trees on both sides of the road. The trees are covered with leaves, all painted yellow, reflecting the sunshine and immersed in the gentle wind, like a swaying space. Just walk quietly on the road, maybe put your hand in the pocket of a black leisure time coat, tie a white velvet scarf and leave like this. There is no one on the road, which is for the best. It seems that this road and these trees are the whole world. Occasionally there will be leaves floating down, falling in front of your eyes and on your toes, leaving it alone. Looking up, you can see the sunset in the distance, and the leaves set in Phnom Penh by the afterglow. All this seems to emerge in my memory bit by bit, which reminds people a lot but is hard to describe. Indus river, sunset, light spot, solitary shadow. Qiu Guang's loneliness and nostalgia.

It looks like a quiet lake. Of course, there will be quiet Woods around. And it should be night, with moonlight. Maybe there will be a boat moored by the lake. Just close your eyes and you can imagine how beautiful the lake is, whether it is sparkling or thousands of miles away. How much romance and energy is involved in all this. Those smart talents, those exquisite thoughts, and those feelings of happiness or sadness or comfort or sadness are all wrapped in them, recording the history, culture and beautiful and moving myths. The dead are meaningless, just leaving a story. You don't have to look back or get emotional. This situation is very nice, and naturally your feelings flow in the air. Moonlight, lake, tranquility, boat. Meditation and monologues in the dark.

It seems to be snowing. At night. The first snow. There is no mountain or water this time. There is a cabin. The triangular sloping roof has thirty or forty centimeters of snow, which looks like a thick layer of cream from a distance. The house is simple, but it looks solid. There are two red lanterns hanging in front of the door, which are warm and warm. The open space in front of the door is uneven, but it is pure white, and there is not a footprint. There is a tree near the house, and its branches are all plated with silver. All this is a beautiful fairy tale. There are two lovely children in the fairy tale, perhaps two brothers, innocent; Or there is a girl who goes to the Woods to pick mushrooms every day, beautiful and kind; Or a simple couple, happy and sweet. In short, all this, accompanied by gentle melody, reminds people of life and warm life. Although unrealistic, it can also be pinned. Snow, hut, lanterns, fairy tales. Hazy and longing when winter snow is like floc.

It seems to be in a small forest, and there is a small water flowing in front of me. Sitting on a stone by the water. There are many trees around, but they are not dense and easy to grow. They are all red leaves, so they may be in Xiangshan. There are also red leaves on the ground, which are very clean, just like those on trees, without any stains, which makes people suspect that they grow on the ground. The terrain is a little high and you can see far away. There are mountains in the distance. The mountains are covered with maple trees, and the trees are full of red leaves. Looking around, it is fiery red, which makes people's hearts thump. Lower your eyebrows and pick up a leaf. With the blue sky as the back, the context is clear, the outline is clear and the meaning is long. With running water as the back, the shadow is dense, the color is light and the rhyme is hazy. Into the water, downstream, so drifting, drifting for thousands of years, I do not know how much acacia and sadness have drifted away, how much hope and sustenance have drifted away. Maybe it touched a stone and ran aground, resting in this mountain, forest, water and stone, leaving all thoughts and helplessness behind. Maple, red leaves, flowing water, bluestone. The faint sadness of wandering season.

The first snow in Bandry. The first time I listened, someone asked me what I could hear, and I thought of these four kinds. He said that he could only hear one voice, and that was sadness. Scenery is love. I said that the meaning of scenery changes with feelings, and feelings are linked to experience. When there is no experience, feelings are free and the scenery is real. Just like here, four or more images are randomly generated. And once you have feelings, there is only one kind of scenery. Listening to "First Snow" at this time, I can't recognize so many things anymore.