Before everything had time to stop, it had already slipped to the edge of the season with the abundant rain.
But what about a person's mood? Could it be that with the immersion of this endless rainy season, even his mood has fallen into the abyss of eternal destruction?
In the days not long ago, I was still thinking about it. In this coming summer, maybe what I need is a heavy rain that comes in an instant and is harsh on my skin. It can wash away my impetuous and wandering thoughts.
And my mottled and faded memory.
And what kind of days those were.
The arrogant sunshine becomes more poisonous day by day, and the scorched air flows uneasily on the earth, looking for every inch of foothold that has not yet boiled. The streets are full of bright shadows of the sun, crawling along the molten asphalt road
, leaving indelible scars on the back of every pedestrian. On the road filled with the smell of asphalt, vehicles passed quickly, accompanied by burning waves and the sound of rubber sticking. A piece of paper fell in the air.
The sycamore leaves have not yet touched the ground...
All of that should be gone, disappearing into the not-too-distant summer afternoon when the cicadas chirped endlessly, along with the memory of the sycamore leaf that fell and was ruthlessly swept away by the wind.
The lights at midnight were dim. The espresso on the table was still steaming. Outside the window was a pitch-black night, with streaks of lightning flashing alternately, trying to tear through the mysterious veil of the night. The gurgling sound of water in the bathroom next door struck Midnight's heart.
The sound continues like a stream of summer dreams.
This is indeed a summer with plenty of rain. The gloomy sky is stretched infinitely by the falling raindrops, and the bottom of the funnel seems to be kissing the faint tall buildings and dim neon lights in the distance.
But where are the children who once ran in the pouring rain?
The unceasing roar of thunder carried the rolling dark clouds toward my window, singing a black night song in my ears and in my eyes.
Yes, those days of uninhibited indulgence are called youth. Rebellious hormones are flooding in our blood vessels, and melancholy and silence are always clearly looming in our smiles. At that time, there was only sunshine and rain in the sky, and joy and sadness were
Such a vivid alternation. However, when we stand on the edge of youth, we will feel the dull pain buried deep in the bone marrow. Longing and confusion, persistence and fragility, they are intertwined and emerge in our lives, making us confused.
and a helpless swamp.
For many sleepless nights, I sat alone and helpless under the dim light, letting the cold wind howl through my eardrums, drifting away, never to return.
But, have they really disappeared from my life?
The voice on the other end of the phone is gradually approaching the hoarseness of adulthood, and the handwriting on the letter is also silently becoming more mature, losing a little warmth and a little innocence. The summer we once really had has really been with us
Following the passage of time, has it slipped to the unknown horizon?
It disappeared without leaving a trace, whizzing away with us who were once happy, sad, laughing, crying, silent, or wild...
I shuttled through the surging crowds, trying to smell a hint of the familiar summer flavor. However, behind every numb mask, I found a familiar feeling. However, none of them were the summer I wanted.
The mark I'm searching for.
In those summers abandoned by time, who else is paying homage to you?
We are growing old rapidly, just like the fallen leaves that bid farewell to summer and learn about autumn overnight. We are being swallowed up by the speeding time, like a lonely boat swept away by a hurricane, without the slightest resistance.
Our summer passed by so cruelly, day by day, minute by minute, and second by second. I stood at the end of this summer, standing in the pouring rain, but I could never find it.
traces of the past.
Many years later, when I once again stand at the end of a summer, feeling sad for the shortness of life and the fleeting time, can I think of those young people again? They spent their time like flowers squandering it to their heart's content.
, kill as much as you want at your fingertips...
Everything is nothingness, everything is blowing into the wind. Perhaps, this rainy summer will disappear in the fleeting light, just like it has never come to this noisy world.
Another summer is coming to an end, and how can I find the place where I once stayed?
This city has spread out the map of her loneliness, but how can I find the place where she is waiting for me.
I have really gone far, carrying the sad eyes of time, walking alone on the rainy road, until I turned into a sad origin in the dense rain curtain...