Farewell to Dust

I just walked around the campus, stepping on the fine dust, which made my eyes blurry, but I could see so clearly. I wanted to keep her, just like I kept myself, but I fell into a place I didn't know, just like she fell into a place I didn't know. I don't know if pear blossoms are still blooming here. If they are, it's just a pale irony to my youth and love. My youth and love, I say now with a smile, did exist after all. So I kept the remnants of that existence in the text, just so that she might know it, but I didn't know and finally knew that the youth and love of many people were brought out in this text, which spread like pear blossoms on the pale page. If readers are willing to spend a little time, just treat these as entertainment, although I am not doing it for entertainment. Excerpts from the article: 1 The low sky is still spitting out its sorrowful threads, weaving a brocade in the thundering night. The icing on the cake, and the flowers are the bitter stamens blooming with cold tears. 2 So we walked slowly again until we entered such a beautiful night, bent down towards a hazy smile, and picked up the fallen flower shadows. 3 In the ocean of love, I am a slow fish. I roll my eyes in the lingering water, dig the thorns deep into my body, and spit out endless foam for myself. 4 I am a grass seed that bears autumn. Autumn is painful autumn, and the pain is heartbreaking. When I tore my heart apart, a burst of wind blew up and it sank into the earth. I love this soil, it has your footprints. I recognize your footprints, who told you to be here before? I'm not in your footprints, so you can take me everywhere you go. 5 I hope so much that her feet are neat and full, and everything is the splendor of flowers and the tranquility of leaves. I can be a stone on the side, a monument or a threshold. Accept my existence without ignoring it or saying anything. 6 Your name is like a butterfly, fading in my dying smile. But I just ask you to pick it up quietly and quietly, and then carve it into my monument. On a spring morning, together with my name, it soared into the sky and danced like a butterfly, gradually drifting away and finally stopped among the pear blossoms.