This year’s “May 1st” came without a word to me, but I forgave its recklessness. I am used to having to experience the joy of labor on such a holiday. Even though I only fell asleep at two o’clock in the morning, I got up before eight o’clock in the morning. After getting up, I started cleaning and tidying the room.
I once agreed that the best enjoyment of work was “stop sweating in budding state”. However, the wind passing through the windows and doors today is full of the coolness of early summer, which made my working time in the southern “May 1st” relatively prolonged. I like to listen to music while working, so that I don’t want to feel helpless when working.
Of course, I also want to take advantage of the brain flirting with exercise to relax my mood . I originally planned to go to Zhaoqing to be close to the scenery there, but when I thought of writing the novel “Love in South Africa” , I told my friends that I would go again next time.
However, if I really want to protect the frequency of being close to the mountains and rivers, the “Shunfengshan Park” near my residence fits the logic of eating and eating grass. What’s more pleasant is that I can also ride a bicycle and swim around the lake. This low travel cost, in today’s sluggish economic background, is also infiltrated with real humanistic care.
Quietly sorting out the passing time and the painstaking past plot, if we welcome back to the current heart river, the fish in the water will definitely tell that it is their tears that make them survive. Because of the sadness, the fishes shed tears; because of the sadness, the fishes shed too many tears. As a result, the tears of the fishes slowly wet the rivers and lakes. Therefore, if we like fish, we must first like their tears; just as if we like mountains, we cannot burn the trees on the mountains.
Suddenly, the snow scene was quietly arranged into my heart, deliberately raising my infinite depression; under the beautiful sun, that touch of breeze, photocopying the world’s too late love…
However, who is willing to lose their homes, the noisy spring of the butterfly dance and bee; who is willing to write down the eternal regret of life in the history of the heart!
Fortunately, the sunset still maintained the marriage with the United States, so I stepped on a bicycle and rode to the shore of Qingyun Lake under the Shunfeng Mountain.
Rolling a single wheel on the asphalt road by the lake, listening to the leaves in a whirl, chanting softly and softly with the encouragement of the wind musicians; and on my phone , a friend recorded for me is playing Little poem ” Love Story “. I, while listening to the story, looked at the lake. It seems that the setting sun is like a beautiful bridesmaid, and the gleaming lake is beautiful.
Suddenly, from the “Baolin Temple” on the lakeside, there was a quiet flute sound. It must be a little monk who was filled with homesickness. My “Love Story” inevitably adds a bit of melancholy to the sound of the flute.
Moving in the light and shadow of the sunset, the mood is always keen to be busy in contradictions. At dusk, I am eagerly looking forward to the return of the sunset; how can I keep the sunset?
The wind is still the wind of early summer, but before going to dusk, kindly reminds me to add clothes. I said that the bicycle is being ridden by me. If you want to add clothes, you must first consider it. The wind was speechless and moved me sincerely.
But after a while, I felt a little regretful in my heart, why would I be upset with that choice and let Feng’er appreciate it too. In order to make up for the insult to the wind, I moved my lips and quietly offered my first kiss to it.
The setting sun did not deviate from the track I imagined, and in the end it was still unable to hold back the passion of the evening; it was just the scene when I was left behind, just like the unhurried “May 1”. Thinking of the bitter call of “Love in South Africa”, my self-blame and guilt are so lively as a teenager who loves time.
When I wanted to be with the wind again, reviewing the feeling of the first kiss, “Another Nostalgia”, let the sound of the flute in the wind crush my heart. As a result, the misty thoughts began to transform into blossoming early summer snowflakes on the smoky lake surface…