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warm

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    ?

    The sun is shining and the scenery is infinitely beautiful.  great time.

    Several days of insomnia left her mentally paralyzed.

    She wants to wash the clothes cleaner.

    She is reading a book.  The title of the book is ¡¾Wald Dance¡¿.  Seeing late at night, the surroundings are silent.  When I woke up, it was still dark, and the light green curtains were blowing in the wind.

    A splitting headache.

    She wanted to write a book, so she wrote her name on a piece of paper.  Black handwriting is printed on the paper.

    When I am free, I will take the initiative to clean up the housework.  But very little free time.  What is squeezed by the years is only broken.

    Get up early and dry the clothes.  Go to the vegetable market to buy vegetables.

    I also make steamed buns by myself when I have a whim.  Dumplings, Hanamaki.  fritters.

    Eat vegetables that are in season.

    There is a promotional activity for ribs in the supermarket.  So, I bought a lot of bones and went home.  Boiling soup, braised in soy sauce, deep-fried always get tired of eating.  Also tired of fried chicken drumsticks.

    ?Life is simple and joyful.

    No green plants were raised, and a fake pine tree was placed upside down in the living room.  It's just deception.  But I want to add a little greenery without looking monotonous.

    Like to eat spicy food.  Knowing that the body is not suitable for eating too stimulating food, but still can't control the desire.  On a windless afternoon or calm morning, eating junk food by myself.  They are very spicy.  It was very satisfying to eat, but within a few days, my body started to itch, and a large number of embarrassing pimples and red pox appeared on my face.  Scratching desperately, gaining a moment of comfort.  Inflammation, bleeding, pain, and permanent scars ensued.

    There are a few more grooves on an uneven face.  Mixed with foul-smelling sweat, it flowed vertically.

    Fortunately, she is not a beauty lover.  No one will care whether she is beautiful or not.  She exists alone in that corner, blending with the dark night, watering new dreams, desires and attachments.

    She rarely writes on paper.  The words were written so fast that sometimes even she couldn't decipher them.  The fast-paced life robbed her of her patience.

    She has forgotten her dialect.  It's sad.  Her hometown turned into dark gray dust in memory.  Never touch it, after a long time, it becomes a tear in my heart.  It stays there, beating with the heart, but dead.  The moment he jumped out of his body, he was completely wiped out by the sunlight.

    Unreservedly disappeared in memory.

    She has no friends.  Solo.  Don't go out easily.

    Have nothing to do with the world.  Calm state of mind.

    The sofa is newly added, and the kitchen has just been renovated

    Everything is brand new.  And the new life has not yet begun.

    The wind blows down the remaining flowers.  The pink petals are like the arms of an angel falling from the world.  Waiting for the fairy to come by the wind and take away the lost clothes.

    She rubbed her swollen eyes.  Headache going crazy.  She began to conceive the first chapter of the novel.

    She began to think about the meaning of writing a novel.

    Messy scenes circled in my mind.  But I can't find a way to sort out their relationship.

    So, she silently looked at the sky outside the window.  The blossoming white clouds set off like a dream.

    I want to rummage through my memory to find my original appearance.  I used to be naive and naive.

    The carefree self who knows nothing about the sky and the earth.

    The self who is not contaminated by the right and wrong of the world.

    The self who is walking down the street wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of canvas shoes

    The self who doesn't take any unhappy things to heart

    The self who was lying on the desk and writing tirelessly

    Her pale face was printed on the glass window.  She sees her reflection in the mirror.  Although blurry, it still feels too clear.  It seems to see the years, the knife, hard to carve the traces of aging on the face.

    Unrecognizable.  After running around for half my life, when I come back, I am no longer who I used to be.

    She wrote down the names of Lin Shujie and Huang Jialan on the paper.

    She wrote six characters very slowly.

    Her head began to ache again.  So, she stood up irritably and walked around the living room.

    "I haven't been in my hometown for many years. Since I was 19 years old" she said.

    "How far away. And now I'm 30 years old That's where I first grew up. It's the place where my lonely soul rests. But I refuse to go back because I have nothing. Even the memories are empty."  she says.

    Long hair hangs down, covering her frail face.

    Vulnerable, sensitive, restless.  Not confident enough these ugly words got into her? ears.

    The tear in my heart hasn't melted yet.  It's still beating.

    Listen to the spring breeze shaking the anticipation of the years, and listen to the lark singing on the branches.  Homeless people can always see the direction of the distance.  Lost love and hate, the most beautiful time gone.

    She walked a long way and was very tired.

    Looking back, I stared at the footprints, deeply sunken into the soil.  Will it fall into a flower seed.  Accept the sun, moon and rain, and bloom the next flowering season.

    She started taking medicine.  Pain relievers contain hypnotic effects.

    If she can live to be 90 years old, she has already completed one-third of her life.

    The dream is not over yet.

    The ideal is still far away in the sky.

    She hates summer.  And summer has come.  In the time full of fear, she longed for a thick wall to surround her.  Separated from everything around.

    But she couldn't escape the cage of controlling her demons.  She has never been able to achieve the detached attitude of letting go of everything and not caring about anything.

    Dejected.

    The warmth came unexpectedly.  Winter came quietly.  The mundane world is but a dream.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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