Walking days repeat the same pace, day after day, so that each season, arrival on time.
Time scattered all over the place is worn into Rosary by years and bloomed into well-meaning flowers. Even if there are blooming and withering, they will write affectionate notes in the lines of time poems.
Passing through the Red Dust, there are always some scenery, because like, so that the distant road has become very close.
Closer, closer, heartbeat, like a reunion with an old man I haven't seen for many years.
All the noise is isolated at this moment, my world only has this lotus pond in front of me, only these favorite aquatic plants - lotus.
