If you don't come to the happiness of snow and wind, you will not be able to feel the broad-minded flying. Even if it melts, there will still be the fragrance of soil.. In the silent inside of twirling fingers, as long as you find a thick place to exist, it will reward you with a series of deep emotions, not the pain of passers-by, but the beauty of romantic beauty. I am deeply grateful for you and share the unconstrained sounds of nature.. Winter's movement, gentle attainments, is a kind of agreement, wrapped in silvery white silence, falling into pity at the tip of one's hair, and floating on air in the boundless wilderness, wisps, dribs and drabs, is joy, is thoughts, winding every corner of the north, you, gently, is doomed to quietly go, love a pleasant, there is a reason, as long as reading, you will be able to read its beauty!
Heap up childhood, heap up joy, from ignorant to lost, all in this season's fly inside. There is no dispute that Jiangnan is proud and charming. Different Jiangnan is soft, weak and weak. As long as a north wind sends him off and he is involved in the struggle of creases, it is a song of joy that deduces the frozen landscape of thousands of inside, gives infinite shade to the world, interweaves the sadness of dreams on the top of the cold, and walks out of a series of poems whose hearts cannot be freehand brushwork.. If the pulsation of snow is a piece of heaven and earth, I should say that it is my favor. In the window of the ice flower, I remember the cold figure, swaying the lonely dead branches into a farewell in the distance, fantasizing about the dreariness of the long autumn day, and there are still a few pieces of withered leaves swaying in the cold wind, frozen into ballads, telling the story of one thousand years, and unchangeable eternity.!
The old man always speaks of snow with something extraordinary that makes you linger and reminisce. Women always speak of snow with strange beauty that makes you look for it and explore its secrets.. In the youthful paper inside, there are many words left behind, no embellishment, no makeup or trimming. As long as it is a little bold and unconstrained, there is an endless flow of flowers. They grow up together and arrive at dusk together. Besides the memory of childhood, you become an old man, you become a woman. This is the vicissitudes of life and the interpretation of the world of mortals.. No one talks about you, you pile up everywhere, making people feel you, you are in the arms of the earth, waiting for the weeping spring water, playing and singing the passing world.! (责任编辑：admin)