Under the blue sky, there is a long river of thousands of miles.
When night falls, the sky changes from blue to indigo, and slowly, slowly, the stars move around.
"Time is a long river, and our life is only one billionth of it."
Like a migratory bird, I wait for the flowers to bloom, and then experience the flower failure that I hate. After the flowers fail, it is a new cycle of reincarnation.
"If the old doesn't go, the new won't come."
I walked down the long street, looking at the sea of people, and felt extremely irritated.
I hate crowds.
Too many people make me feel oppressive.
When I came to the tall building, the stars seemed to be a little closer to me.
"The dangerous building is a hundred feet high, and you can pick the stars with your hands."
……………………
An essay. Plus an inspired novel manuscript (which may be continued as a separate article if possible)
No surprises, monthly updates (once a month)
Mainly write poetry.
Concept: Fireworks in the world are like lighthouses