Ten thousand sentences

  Memory is like a lead painting that was inadvertently wetted. When the clear water meets the color, the fresh face of the person in the painting gradually loses its corners and becomes more and more blurred under the haze of time. The dissolved color also deviates from its original position, making it difficult to distinguish. Various colors are intertwined, like those broken memories. In the end, only a piece of paper was left.
  Many times, a leaf can evoke your nostalgia for the past, and a breeze can make your heart sour. It’s just that in such complex and intertwined emotions, there are always times and stories that will be well collected by us. In the circulation of the years to come, whenever we pick up the fallen leaves and the wind is blowing, those long gone figures will all come back to our minds, awakening the warmth and emotion of deep sleep for many years.
  My courage is small, and my personality is introverted, and I am not good at communicating with people. One afternoon in early summer, the weather was clear, I was about to walk home through the garden as usual, and suddenly found something densely landed on my head. As soon as I looked up, I saw the white flickering sky falling from the sun, and I was stunned. “Hey! Are you stupid? What are you doing there? This is dandelion, haven’t you seen it?” I haven’t recovered, and I can’t ignore the answer. The girl standing on the steps laughed “giggling” He got up and said, “Come on, look at you as being pitiful, and give you some fun!” Then, she carefully pulled out a thin dandelion from the ground and handed it to me. I was panicking and wondering how to deal with the gift from this enthusiastic person. She suddenly jumped down the steps and walked towards me, saying, “I didn’t expect you to be so shy. Come on, just like I did.” Try to blow away the dandelion pompoms until they are scattered, and gradually fall to the dust in the mottled tree shadow.
  In this way, she became the first good friend in my life. We went to the creek in the suburbs to catch tadpoles, fluttered butterflies in the field of rapeseed, and rolled in the field where the fresh grass had just grown … At that time, we did n’t know the kind of small white flowers that grew everywhere. The wild grass is called “Shepherd’s purse”, but it is called “bellflower” wishfully; I don’t know that the small ball covered with thorns and sticking to the hair is called “Cang Er”. “…
  Today, I know that her favorite “bellflower” was a delicious and delicious wild vegetable when I was a child, and I knew that every time she was used as a “weapon” to attack me, “seeing hair sticky” was originally a Chinese medicine shop that can cure illnesses and save people Knowing a lot of other medicinal herbs … But I don’t know where she went afterwards.
  Years later, when I was in the early summer breeze again, through the dandelions flying through the bushes, I gradually recalled her smile. Although we have never seen each other again, until now, I can still clearly remember the tears and moles in her eyes and the little starlight flashing in her eyes.
  Of course, there are some stories that I will intentionally or unintentionally throw away in the wind, broken and broken away, and I want to find it again, and only an abstract outline remains.
  I inadvertently glimpsed the broken shadow on the window sill, which is the silhouette of the spring sunshine passing through the newborn tender green leaves, which looks very warm. Somehow, my mind suddenly flashed like she was: she stood quietly, smiling lightly, like the shadow of the spring light, very warm. I have n’t remembered all the details in the past, and even her face was a little blurred. I only remember clearly what she said: “Fortunately, life is in a hurry, I am here, you are here.” At that time, I felt that this sentence was very plain. At this moment, after thousands of miles of landscape, I realized the warmth in this sentence afterwards.
  When I was young, I like wind, rain, and the wind and rain in the mediocre life of the four seasons. Because I feel that the wind is gentle, the rain is affectionate, and the wind and rain have her story. I didn’t realize it until I really experienced the wind and rain. It turned out that the story of me and hers was not very memorable at first, but it was like a congee, plain and plain, not too delicious, but also a bit unique. It was only the beauty of that time that I finally understood now, so I missed it.
  I have some regrets and some gratifications. Unfortunately, I was awkward and slow at the time, but I could not understand her hidden emotions; fortunately, after many years, I finally understood the meaning behind that sentence. Thinking this way, the pen under my hand slipped unconsciously, and this sentence was printed on plain paper. When a friend turned his head, he saw the line and said with a smile: “I didn’t expect you to write such a fine word with such a careless person.” I was a little confused. This friend really is a person full of wonderful fantasy, she described this Very novel. But without waiting for me to ask, she went on to say: “Sunny and rainy days will not appear at the same time, because the sun has a crush on rainy days, and the fish will one day suffocate in the arms of water.” After listening to her explanation, I Looking at this sentence again, it is still difficult to associate it with the sun. If it is warm, I can still understand it.
  This moment of melancholy, turned around and was thrown into the spring. But spring is a bit childish, and he is unwilling to collect these emotions. The gray cloud spreads like ink from the end of the sky to the end of the sky. It seems that the whole sky is sad. The drizzle fell and wet my shoulders, like who’s hot tears, I don’t know which corner of the memory fragments thrown out secretly ran out again, deliberately making fun of me. I have clearly thought of her for a long time, and even my face has been blurred, but I have thought of it frequently these past two days. The sunny day is hers, and the rainy day is hers. Is it suggesting something?
  In my dream, I seem to have returned to the past, but the memory is still vague. But the words and the warmth were all in the clear weather, and she whispered in her ear. But in the next second, the pouring rain shattered all the sunshine and warmth. The memory was like blisters from the rain, which instantly turned into water splashes, which were difficult to find. Perhaps this is the case, no matter how sunny, it will eventually fall in the rain. The past stories, on paper, are old and hard to remember.
  When 10,000 fine words all fall in the rain, only hope that the next sunny day, we can see you again.