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No reason

[Introduction] the dusk is immersed in the sunset like Dawn. I am immersed in the sunset at dusk and continue to bury myself back to the past, just like the past of the sunset. I would like to lose my way even if others say that I have lost myself. A three-day holiday is much longer and happier than a two-day weekend, however, the expected plan always makes people can’t wait to fly to their knees quickly after only one more day’s vacation. It is such happiness, but I don’t know the so-called bitterness and the mind that I can’t guess. I really hope that there is a kind of death, at least there is only one kind of sentiment, and there is no need to entangle the contradiction. It is either great joy or great, calm like stagnant water, it is also quiet. Looking at the returning home, I felt extremely delighted when traveling. The remaining eyes were empty and wandering alone. I really want to laugh and cry, facing the dark midnight, there is no dawn in the early morning. But it was also so excited and happy. When knowing that friends went to the shore bank to relax, the sentences were also full of unfinished excitement and lasting joy. It was also so excited and happy. When I knew that there were also friends wandering alone in the small room with only myself like me, thinking about stories that I didn’t even know and memories that passed away. However, I didn’t know the so-called bitterness again, carrying the broken happiness, saying that I went back to my hometown, saw relatives and lovers, and I didn’t know how long I had traveled to a further place unintentionally. It is said that it is the ancient hometown that I have never been. Accompanied by the tourists who left, the children who returned home, I picked up the photos that I didn’t want to mention again for a long time. Is it a dream or a hopeless wind? Should it be bitter happiness? (May you have a happy life. No, it should be that I wish you a happy life.) Before the dusk of the 30th, all the photos began to fill me. I thought it should not be repulsive. After all, the hot sun came after the sudden heavy rain. The dusty photos have not been developed, and the mottled years have no trace. Buried in the computer, I am reluctant to open it for a long time. I am not afraid of the recorded stories, but she is connected with the memory, what I am afraid of is the rain of memory, which passes away the memories and the future of my childhood. I don’t want to take care of it. I always throw it away in a hurry. There are only yellow paper leaves left in the old photos. I just close my eyes and don’t see them. But when the system was to be reinstalled, I compressed the memory, and all the stories and the past were put forward by me and placed in another place. But I am still only compressed, unwilling to open it, unwilling to mention it again. Somehow, when the noise around me was washed away, I was only dependent on photos on this May Day. From dusk to four o’clock in the morning of May Day, from noon to three o’clock in the morning of the next day, from noon today to dusk today, memories, photos, memories, photos, old or fresh, memory or attachment? I didn’t answer the question and dared not ask any more. Just watch, organize, try to make a video, and add your favorite songs. I don’t know whether it is to make up for it or to superpose my memory. I am so empty to bring the past stories of today. It is said that it is a memory that has been sealed for thousands of years. But I don’t understand. I just look at the people in the photo, such as friends, classmates, partners, relatives, children and grandmothers of neighbors, children of relatives, and my aunt who loves my children very much; and my hometown, for my home and wandering places, tile houses, mountain roads, tall buildings, lanes, loess and tombs, mountains and rivers, rusty and newly built; There are also drifting wind shadows, the sunset is old, and all the memories of the broken leaves of the Pearl River overlap, interlacing memories, like familiar journeys and strange buildings, but I fell into a dream again, creating my own Phantom. The dusk is immersed in the sunset like Dawn. I am immersed in the sunset at dusk and continue to bury myself back to the past, just like the past of the sunset. I would like to lose my way even if others say that I have lost myself. There are photos engraved with the past and present one by one, and I casually turn over them casually. Suddenly, a pink butterfly came and floated in front of my eyes. I was at a loss immediately, and my hands shyly wanted to click the mouse but couldn’t press it all the time, it seemed that everything stopped moving, but I obviously heard that my heart was like a drum which was hit heavily, and the empty sound that hit fiercely in the drum was exactly the Echo I heard. I warned myself to blow her away quickly, but I couldn’t move. Stop looking at it. My heart crashed empty. Click the mouse quickly to take the next photo, but I still struggled to move. The pink butterfly was full of smiles, floating in front of my eyes, flying leisurely from the flowers on the left to the grass in the middle and falling in my eyes. I warned myself more fiercely whether I would die or not, but I still couldn’t move, as if I had lost more than half of my soul, and heard a violent echo: I would like to lose my way for this, even if others say that I lost myself. 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