I want to catch a wisp of wind passing by my fingertips in the dark shadows of the autumn night and sleep forever.
Through the depths of long-lasting and vague memories, people and events are still fresh and fresh. In the beams of the setting sun, stepping on the scattered shadows.
The veins of the leaves are pulsating, and you can feel the thorns when you touch them with your fingers. They scatter away the dust and dust, and they appear again in the past year.
Time.
The words are clumsy and the pen is blunt, the narration is frozen, the thoughts are not clear, but the heart is anxious.
Wish.
Intention: blank thoughts