The Cicadas Chirp and the Summer Flowers Bloom

The hot summer is accompanied by the chirping of cicadas, hiding in the treetops to peek at the breath of youth. I always want to fill the plain and boring time with all kinds of poetic life, like filling a running account with gorgeous rhetoric. Free, enthusiastic, free and unrestrained, it seems that after the age of eighteen, you swear to be the master of your own decisions. Go see all kinds of scenery and eat all kinds of delicious food. Rather than three o'clock and one line, using coffee to refresh yourself all day long is boring. It was like being sucked into a torrent of pressure, being knocked over by waves one after another in the real sea. No matter how hard I tried, I could never swim to the other side. At this point, the empty eyes no longer reflected the high-spirited self. People are always walking on the road of meeting and parting, meeting each other again and passing by each other. When I occasionally want to stop and look back, I have already moved from one place to another.