Sleeping in the wind at night, in the eyes of snow, the reflection of the Himalayas, lonely and lonely.
If you are not careful, a cough is a premeditated avalanche, trying in vain to cover and hide all the joys and sorrows.
Waking up and telling in your dreams is like repeating a lie that you don't want to believe. Knocking on the ice in my heart, ding dong ding dong, even tens of millions of pounds of hammer are difficult to chisel, even if there is a crack.
Indestructible, all it takes is a snap of the fingers of "Thanos". When the ice first melts, just a smile from the sweetheart is enough.
I stand in the Himalayas watching the Sahara, at the intersection of time and space, the distance between the continent and the sky, between the fish and the birds, is crushed to make a grain of yellow sand, and I swear by my body and bones, never to abandon it, and depend on each other for life and death. The camel bells, jingle bells, jingle bells, and jingle bells that travel far away are like the pain of a long time in the heart.
Picking up the sand and gravel of time, I long to find the lost smile of your former you between the fingers of fate, or the heartbeat and stupidity that have been lost for a long time.
The beginning of the story confirms the ending, and the prophecy that flows on the compass tries in vain to dilute the fear of the unknown with a transcendence. As soon as you turn around, the end of the world is far away, and the place where you are is far away. Because of some coincidence of fate, from then on, until old age and death, for me, you have no fish and geese, and for you, I am gloomy.
In the deepest and deepest night, there is a wind in the Himalayas, and the heart of the wind stirs the sea buckthorn thousands of miles away, slowly pausing the head, as if a serious confirmation, and like a different kind of ritual, licking each other's thoughts secretly.