The shadow of the crescent moon has no scars, and that road can find home. Tears of sacrifice flowed in the sand, and the world did not know the struggle of transformation and quietly put everything down. -inscription
A sinner is a sinner because he doesn't know his own sin. So, I will tell you that I am a fugitive from prison school in my heart. I want to walk aimlessly but in a hurry, and I can't let the clearest wisdom stop me. Once, I walked in summer and woke up in the heat. The sun burned my eyes. So I walked under the willows on the river bank and suddenly felt cool. Waves of breeze blowing, willow branches gently brushed the water; I leaned down to inject a small amount of water, but I couldn't help but panic. When I left in a hurry and stumbled, I hurriedly cleaned up my fall. My knee is oozing blood, and I don't care about cleaning the wound. I left with tears as big as beans. Please look at the real yourself you see on the lake. It tore my heart inexplicably, and only full of pain can cover up the naked and meaningless sadness of sinners.
I don't know why sinners are punished for aphasia. I don't know why sinners repeatedly hear not their own heartbeat, but sobs in the dark. Holding a lifeline, the task forced me to the corner where there was no escape. Maybe it's just the perfection I've been chasing for a second, or maybe it's just a little cheese, which is always missing. I asked myself, "Are you missing a corner?" Silently answer: "No." Ask yourself again: "Are you a saint?" Another breath silently replied, "No." Every sinner has a future, and every prophet has a past, which is terrible. It is the sinner who refuses to be himself to cover up his disability. A sharp pain woke my soul, and my numb consciousness seemed to be warmed by something.
Archimedes has three famous sayings, do you know? 1, give me a fulcrum, and I can pry up the whole earth. 2. Eureka (I found it). Don't touch my circle. In fact, everyone should first expand their circle, then find a fulcrum, and finally tell others that you have found it.
I always thought I was just a fragment, trembling without rhythm in the sky of life. Now maybe I understand that in my breath-holding world, I am the sky, at least all my life with breath-holding is a rhythmic rotating fragment on me.
When I really open my eyes, I will see my own image from every image; When I really opened my ears to listen, I heard my own voice from all the voices.
Seawater evaporates, transpires, accumulates into clouds and floats in the air. Perhaps, in a certain sky in the north of autumn, I will find my meaning. ...