In the windy street
In the windy street, the laughing and rambunctious little teenagers are frozen in the corner of the years. The old things of the past have already changed their appearance. The plane trees on both sides of the school have turned yellow and green, green and yellow, and the eyes are touching, and there is still a slightly sour taste in my heart. Time is like a train that misses a station and reaches a place we can't see in the blink of an eye. The scenery along the way and the people you meet all migrate with the disappearance of youth, leaving only an empty memory, accompanied by the auspicious film feathers in the mind, soothing the wounds that were once lingering. In the dead of night, looking at the text in the space link and reading the mood of others, I suddenly recalled a lot of past events: young and frivolous rebellion, scorching sun-like love, and boundless dreams. Romantic song, you in the wind are smiling. We are all actors, speaking other people's words and interpreting our own sadness. The time passes page by page, even if the castle of the past is filled with a gentle atmosphere that makes people intoxicated, after all, it is useless, returning to the bridge of reality, standing at the intersection of green and yellow, and quietly saying: Time is gone. When the beautiful days fade like a black tide, when the bustling sky in June begins to end, when the afterglow of the past reflects on my calm profile. I finally let go of the once heavy shackles, holding the unfathomable night in one hand, and writing words that I have nowhere to talk to in the other. I began to integrate into a new life. At this time, I was like a new baby, and my eyes showed wireless longing and surprise. When I was walking on an inaccessible road, when the pointer of fate took me off course, when the cells in my body were squeezed out of swill by working gears layer by layer, and tears overflowed from the corners of my eyes, the time at this time was like a swamp Let the young children sink deep into the mud: there is no stable home, no resting harbor, no solid arm, and some are just too much helplessness and perseverance. Time will never stop because of your nostalgia. Everyone's life is a heavy truck. Too much load will affect your progress. In fact, many things in the world are fixed, just like the reefs on the beach, they will always be disturbed by the tide. Yesterday, everyone knows that it is just an outdated memory, but this world is still full of people coming and going. Over time, these build a bridge in the heart, leading to loneliness. We all used to live in yesterday, looking forward to unrealistic reality. After that, it has come to today, carrying impeccable joys and sorrows. In fact, life is just a play, because the roles chosen are different, so there are different interpretations Today, the passage of time is just a cycle of comings and goings, but from a certain point of view. Today is special. Those who lived in the past years and died in the sadness and joy, as well as those who burned passion in their lives, and those passers-by who faded out of time, have given today a special meaning. Time is like a funeral, all the characters are polished beyond recognition and finally buried. And each of us should learn to pay homage, pay homage to the self who paid silently, pay homage to the burning scenery and the boundless destiny. From the beginning of the past, to the end of today, I have walked dazedly in an old circle for sixteen spring and autumn, and finally boarded a road that countless people have done, becoming one of the many passers-by, with a smile Make peace with time. What I once felt most inappropriate to myself is now accepting. What once thought it would never come to fruition is changing now. What I swore to keep in my heart forever is now being forgotten. Unconsciously, we all silently become another character on the stage of life, and we have the so-called past, and there are many stories to tell. Homecoming time is like a rushing river. We are all stones in the river. After experiencing a steady stream of erosion, the edges and corners of the past have been smoothed out. It turns out that growing up is a journey of falling leaves and returning to their roots for many people. The self who used to sit in front of the blackboard in the classroom and write silently has finally passed away with the wind. Painful tears, lost passers-by, like the breeze in spring, become the embellishment of our life sublimation. Maybe Guo Jingming is right: "Everyone has to walk on unfamiliar roads, listen to unfamiliar songs, watch unfamiliar scenery, and then at some inadvertent moment, you will find that you want to forget things that you want to forget, just forget them. The story of life changes because of different choices, and we are all changing step by step in the great funeral of time. After a beautiful baptism, nothing was left, but a lot was left. Standing in the direction of the rising sun, facing the boundless sky, I sincerely thank the funeral of this time. After all, there are traces of my passing on it.