Osho said that love is a ladder between heaven and hell. You can climb up and you can go down.
I went down.
I almost went to hell. It would be better if I really went to hell. I would watch the crying and the fuss, and listen to the smiles and smiles. In the days to come, I would feel a little less lonely. But I couldn't do that. I just lay in the half-space like this, watching other people's glitz, grudges, and grudges. I'm afraid it has nothing to do with me.
I will always remember the road lined with tall and lush poplar trees. I rode a bicycle, blowing the breeze, listening to the sound of the river flowing under the road, feeling the sunset at dusk, the huge sand carts on the river beach that were spinning like Dutch windmills, and the birds flying over the river. Everything was so harmonious and comfortable. Well, his voice is always echoing in my ears. The voice of his lectures, the voice of talking to his colleagues, the voice of students greeting him and his answers, and the voice of his reporting are always bright. It can always shine into my heart and drive away those dark factors. If a sunflower is planted inside, it will be bright, refreshing and refreshing.
In the blink of an eye, all these disappeared. The roadside was replaced by small sand pines, the huge sand washing carts were no longer on the river beach, the falling birds were gone, the sunset was gone, and I could no longer hear his voice. There were no sunflowers in my heart, and the dark factor was back.