There are many places of interest in my hometown, but I only fall in love with this palace wall.
Every time I go home, I always look for a sunset, slowly walk on the old-fashioned green road next to it, and look at it from a distance. Not for the slightest bit of hypocrisy, I just want to take a look at this old friend from my hometown, to see its originally cold and handsome blue-black color dyed red by the sunset, and to see its originally clear knife marks covered by darkness.
At this time, it was like an ancient warrior covered in wounds, caressing the bleeding wounds coldly, and guarding the earth behind it.
The evening breeze picked up, and its figure was stretched very long.
At this time, all I can feel is the vicissitudes of life and the memory of history.
Yes, it's getting old. In the bustling street market, it lies silently, presenting its mottled body in front of people. The city behind him no longer needs its protection. It is as desolate as him. He no longer has the bravery that he once had. He can only sleep quietly beside this shallow moat, helplessly licking the wounds left behind, letting the flowers bloom and fall, and the seasons change.
The wheels of history pass by in a hurry, it is more like a rut being crushed.
A bleak connection between the past, the present, and even the future.
Ruins are a pity, and so on.
Sometimes I even think that it should have been destroyed in the war-torn Spring and Autumn Period, in the Warring States Period, instead of being slowly looked down upon as a memory like it is now.