In the winter in Hunan, fine snow often falls, and the snow is flying all over the sky. It is so real, but it is difficult to identify. Try to spread your hands and touch the fine snow blowing in the wind. Although it clearly fell on the palm, the moment it landed on the palm, the snow melted like air. It is visible, perceptible, but completely uncaptured. I once learned from Lin Qingxuan's prose that this kind of snow has a strange and beautiful name in Japan called wind flower. Because it is only born in the air, passes away in the air, writes its own poetry in the wind, and only writes it to the wind.
Fenghua does not need to prove its existence with traces, it is just a handful of emotions, nostalgia or worry sprinkled in the air. In the season of youth and ignorance, my sky is also filled with such flying wind flowers. Although it was lost in the wind, there was not even a trace left to prove that it had ever existed. But the wind flowers transformed from pure and true feelings can still touch my heartstrings from time to time, touching the happiness of that moment...
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