Flower woke up

　　At dusk, there is no sunset, and the gloomy weather makes the sky even more gloomy. Fortunately, the wind is soft.
　　I don’t know if it’s time for the glasses to be cleaned, or if the prescription is low, but the chaotic and blurry world in front of my eyes is filled with a layer of poetry. A pebble stumbled and was about to be kicked away, but the melodious sound of stream water flowing over the pebble appeared in the dimness. It seemed to be beautiful, so he politely made a detour instead of kicking it rudely.
　　Walking on the road, a movie is playing in my mind. Ordinary life is all small fragments, full of sorrow and joy, mixed with sorrow and joy. Life is nothing more than that, it seems to be very accessible, but it is often a muscle.
　　”When I really started to love myself, I realized that all the pain and emotional torture are just reminding me: to live, not to violate my own heart. Today I understand, this is called ‘truth’.” Not
　　Love You are fake, but you don’t really love yourself most of the time. How many have not violated their own heart? It’s hard not to change your original intention! Disaster! Disaster!
　　Living is not easy, living well is even more difficult. Everyone has difficult scriptures to recite. In real life, right and wrong, quarrels and quarrels, people are afraid of not looking good, but in the face of disputes in the world, fame and fortune, it is even more difficult to look good.
　　I am more and more addicted to quietness, and I like to be steady and steady. I don’t like the human relationship in secular life more and more, I like simplicity, laughing is just laughing, from the heart, without any meaning.
　　Words like impatient, mind-eyed, scheming, and living in this stressful world are already tiring enough, why bother to increase the level and dig traps for yourself.
　　My heart softened. Good and bad. Reading a plain little story can also be moved to tears. When you see a scene, you can think of a series of stories. I don’t know if it is too sensitive or rich in imagination.
　　I often imagine how good it would be to be a tree, to stay quietly in a corner, to lean freely, not to fight or to fight, not to do things I don’t like, not to say things I don’t want to say. Listen to the wind and rain, watch the sky and clouds, see the world, and see the reincarnation of the world.
　　The best is a flower tree, full of fragrance, no need for others to appreciate, standing in its own position, it becomes a landscape by itself. In the wind, in the rain, always elegant and calm. Open and fall, you can afford it and let it go, and you can do whatever you want. In spring, it blooms; in winter, it sleeps soundly.
　　When you raise your head, you can see a tree with a dark-brown trunk that is vigorous, holding up dark-brown branches, and countless white butterflies resting on the branches.
　　Hua woke up.
　　”The flowers bloomed, as if the flowers had woken up. The insects called, as if the insects were talking. Everything came alive.” Wherever you look at the sentence, the elf has become the most beautiful scene in the movie lens.
　　The flowers wake up, everything is bright, and the dusk begins to grow long.