I stroked my long hair, combing it carefully with the passage of time. Those tangled strands of hair seem to be the knots left behind by old memories, entangled in my heart. The comb in my hand seems to have become a magic wand of time, and the teeth of the comb gently touch the dirt and glitz of those years, as if touching the petals of cherry blossoms, piecing together those scattered memories.
Time flowed like water, gently flowing through my fingertips, taking away strands of tangled hair. As if combing through a thick history book, I felt the reawakening of memories that had been forgotten by time. Each strand of hair carries a story, and they are entwined in my heart, like a winding path that leads to those forgotten times.
I combed it through the tangles, slowly untangling the strands. As if flipping through a yellowed photo album, I saw my former self, the one who used to laugh and burst into tears. Those memories that have been sealed by time and dust, like awakened elves, dance, interpret our own stories.
At this moment, I feel as if I am one with time, witnessing those years together. My long hair is no longer just a strand of hair, it has become a witness of the years, recording the bits and pieces of our journey along the way. I gently stroked it as if I was caressing my own heartstrings, feeling those emotions that had been precipitated by time.
The years flowed in the deep thoughts of the sea, like the mist in the morning light gradually dissipated, leaving clear traces. Time dances lightly between the eyebrows, like a bewitching elf, leaving a shallow smile on the picture scroll of memory.
Let's take a quiet break, let the troubles of the past stay at our fingertips like butterflies, and then fly lightly into the distance. Let those hustle and bustle of the past fly freely like butterflies, gently fall into the depths of our hearts, and then gently float away. Let our hearts feel a tranquility and tranquility in this moment of tranquility, as if bathed in warm sunshine, so that all fatigue and heaviness will dissipate.
I know very well that when the pace of spring comes, the red face gradually fades under the erosion of time, and those once warm colors are quietly withered like autumn leaves.
At that time, I longed for you to take my right hand and hold it in the palm of your hand, close to your chest. You can whisper in my ear: "In the next life, I still want to hold your hand, walk through the cycle of the four seasons together, and spend those long years together." ”
Those thoughts under the slanting sun are like flickering fireworks in the mortal dust, flickering and disappearing, reflecting endless thoughts. They leap and rise in the air, with shallow joy, deep pain, and love as deep as the sea.
What is lost and what is gained is an obsession that is unwilling to let go. If you can understand the sincerity of my heart, even if you just rush through this world, the sound of the clattering horses' hooves will leave the memory of the wind and the moon of that year.
When the dust settles, throw melancholy and hesitation into the deserted wilderness, and let them dissipate in the wind. Then, we remove the clutter of our hearts, leaving only a pure and plain mind. With an elegant pen, on the paper dotted with plum blossoms, draw a picture of the Jinsean New Year.
Dreams are swaying on the distant shore, like bright stars in the night sky, but you always stand in the depths of my heart, like a lamp that never goes out. Your existence is the driving force for me to move forward and the destination of my soul. No matter when and where, you are in my heart, accompanying me through every bump and thorn, and witnessing my growth and transformation every time. List of high-quality authors