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[Introduction]: passing through the flashy world, throwing away the misty rain and the red dust. I wish myself to be a cloud, flying freely in the air and traveling in the heavy mountains and rivers of time. Holding the stars, accompanying the bright moon, coming and going with the wind, never knowing the warmth and coldness of the world and leaving without trace. Let my world read clearly, and write life in simple sentences and smooth tones. Sitting in the office, listening to the discussion of the teachers, I was thinking unconsciously and quietly, looking at the present, thinking about the past, the fleeting years are like water. Ordinary life flows slowly in the long river of time, sitting in the quiet, idle clouds rolling clouds, cool flowers blooming, elegant fate. The streams outside the window and the morning haze beside the eaves haunted the past of the years in the romantic amorous feelings. The former brightness or sadness slips lightly from the fingertips, dancing lightly between missing. The words are silent, sound, word by word, bit by bit, fallen flowers become miss the rain. Walking on the journey of life like a dream, looking back on everything in the past, I felt the vicissitudes and solemn and stirring of life. In the quiet and lonely night, I miss the simple days more. That kind of silent concern makes my heart broken. I typed the keyboard, searching for the memory of autumn, and faded out poems on the page. Around us, fresh stories are happening every day of our lives. We play various roles in the stories, either leading roles or supporting roles, but more often, I still like to be a spectator, a passer-by in a hurry, making a dust in the world of mortals, rising with the wind, falling to the ground and resting. The pace of time is getting farther and farther, looking far away. A ray of missing, an emotion, linked, miss you very simple. As long as the fingertip of memory is lightly bounced, the effort to open the door of missing is only in an instant. Although your figure is buried in deep and shallow days. There is no need to experiment. With a call of emotion in your dream, you will come out of the water from the deep of the night and come in a leisurely manner, with steps as light as smoke and graceful manner. At this time, you are still in Fairyland, with frogs singing and streams gurgling. No one peeped at the brush, ink, paper and inkstone, and conveniently filled them with poetic and pictorial letters. The new desk calendar on the desk is a landscape painting named “years like water”. The wonderful Danxia landform makes my eyes always see it casually, my eyes stayed in the artistic conception inside for a long time. It seemed that I could hear the sound from the back of the rocks, the roaring of the wind and the running of the dust, with the growth of life, there is also a faint hollow Sanskrit. Passing through the flashy world, putting aside the misty rain and red dust. I wish myself to be a cloud, flying freely in the air and traveling in the heavy mountains and rivers of time. Holding the stars, accompanying the bright moon, coming and going with the wind, never knowing the warmth and coldness of the world and leaving without trace. Let my world read clearly, and write life in simple sentences and smooth tones. People all know that happiness is the fulcrum of life. In life, happiness or annoyance all depend on our vision, mentality and choices. A person can make himself live happily or unhappy, just like a tune, high or low, happy or sad, all lies in composing and grasping by himself. However, the joys and sorrows are all held in your own hands, which depends on how you choose and pluck that happy string. Then let’s pay attention to the sunshine of spring together, The bright moon in the sky and the casual happiness around you, embrace the colorful and colorful time! At this time, I often fold the index finger and thumb of my hands into a photo frame, letting my eyes hold my thoughts fly into the drawing, letting my thoughts roll freely in the bright and distant sunshine, then it is embedded in the cracks of the rock, constant with the buildings, and wind erosion with time. Listening to the flowing sound of seasonal water quietly, watching the flying flowers and fallen leaves, the ground is dotted with red, the branches still have the faint fragrance of flowers when they bloom, and there are thousands of beauties in the world, all kinds of amorous feelings will pass away in the dream-like days. Life is the same as everything else. If you are not decadent in desolation, you will rise up in desolation. Decadence may lead to regret. Rising up always creates hope. Since this is the case, I will greet the brand-new dawn with the devotion bred by the desolation that I stick to, and use it to warm my aging heart. Ruhuameijuan, homecoming. 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