Meaningful roots.
He Yuzhong. Meaningful roots.
Twisted and twisted, branches and branches.
Look at it. Praise to the Great Creator.
Ingenious, wonderful.
Someone despises. No matter how beautiful it is, it is just a root.
Later, he appeared in museums.
Drenched with vermilion lacquer and opened the holes.
Flowing incense, clouds and mist linger.
Stepping on moss, draped in a glow robe.
For people to see. Sheng.
Li Wei. Read He Xiu's poem "Red Date House".
Read that she saw the worms in the red dates.
Sighing and putting them back in.
Bless them with a peaceful life.
Whenever fruits and vegetables are found to have wormholes.
Just put them in the garden.
Under the flowers and in the grass.
Once in Huayang, a friend's vegetable field.
He picks vegetables for me.
Holding a bouquet of winter vegetables on one side.
Later, I put that bunch of winter vegetables with insect eyes.
Planted in my garden.
There's little life in there.
Friends in the twilight.
The way home for me.
It is the ...... way of life
Heavy rain in late spring
Blue Nights. A cold snap in the south and a warm snap in the north.
Meet at an altitude of 10,000 meters.
Hedging and farewell.
One night in late spring.
Rainwater outside the window. The uproar flowed with my regret that the Spring Festival Gala was about to leave.
Shabu-shabu. Shabu is a blurred back.
Secrets of the sky.
Zhang Yihe. Life takes root in the dirt.
Climb to the top.
The darkness seemed to be silent in the lows.
Distant stars.
Set yourself on fire. There is a glimmer of light and a wisp of wind in my heart.
Enough to warm a lifetime.
Exhibit.
Lake Center Pavilion. The text is alive.
Tied to the silver voice of the female tour guide.
Every time you flick the whip.
Misty streets, temples and shrines.
Just hold out a clear past.
These were dragged back from ancient books.
Dead for many years Yes.
Didn't live at all.
was painted with vicissitudes
One by one, it seems like the rust of the years.
Inside the building, the crystal lights are bright.
Clay sculpture of love and anger.
More dazed than mysterious.
Traces of imprints.
Autumn Moon Maple. The water in the Shiyang River is sucked away by the River of Time.
Some beach fields.
Some thousand-year-old stones.
Walk along the edge of the oasis.
Its song and the days of the harvesters.
It's like being scrubbed by snowy mountains.
White. Snow bright.
Cattle and sheep carry the sunset home.
Cooking smoke zips up the night.
Qilian snow is still sprinkled.
When the waves of Hongyashan Reservoir crash on the shore.
A white swan.
Lost a feather.
Plum blossom tears.
Mei Shanzi. Everywhere there is a bitter face, the smile of plum blossoms.
It is the only expression to be gratified in winter.
That laugh, it's a lot.
The wilder the wind, the taller she became.
The heavier the snow, the brighter she becomes.
Finally, the snow melted and the grass turned green.
The footsteps of spring sounded in the distance.
What you're waiting for is coming.
Plum blossoms wept, string after string.
Pearl-like shimmering.
Chew.
Mind Solo. I don't know since when.
When it's okay.
In the mouth where there is nothing.
Chewing non-stop.
As if chewing.
A life controlled by demons.
It's like chewing again.
Years tormented by suffering.
Chew the day out.
Tulip.
Ama. Those purple flowers.
Like a short skirt of a red and purple star.
Amihai said it was a burning flame.
He was referring to flesh or religion.
Tulips are in full bloom.
The water of the Yellow River flows undisturbedly.
I prefer the tulips to bloom simply.
In the dark of night.
Hopefully it will bloom for a pair of lovers.
And not anything else.
Some memories.
Li Zhefu. Look through your phone's photo album.
A group photo of high school graduates.
It's like an open door to life.
The world inside and outside the door is blurred.
This page was turned.
A new page has yet to emerge.
Autumn nights seem to be quiet, but there are birdsong from time to time.
That cry neither hollows out nor enriches anyone.
There is a haze, and people can't take a step.
A sky is empty.
The roses in his hands were all wilting.