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The wheels passed, the ginkgo leaves fluttered, and the willow leaves fluttered, and I fluttered as I followed. This is a winter morning with clear sun and clear sky.
The sun is pressing on the leaves, and the frost is transparent. The innocence between the trees. It's like a piece of time or a piece of time is intercepted and sent here temporarily. The sparse flow of people is nothing.
No one paid attention, neither did I.
The gap in the morning is not tolerant of a small romantic mood, and the responsibilities of each post are urging. Settlement is the theme of the day. The sublimation of a road lies in the trees along the road. Look at the tree in the middle of the road and look at the road between the trees. In childhood, I didn't know the words of these scenery. When my brothers fell on me, I jumped on the road, and touched the trunk to move around. It's just a short, narrow trail on both sides of the parasol. I counted one by one and counted from the other side. Kicked the stone over, kicked the stone over. I plucked the bark from the trunk, played with small stones on the ground, and talked to them. When my mother called me, I said goodbye and I was going home. And sometimes, because I have to go quickly, I forgot to say. But many times, I held the tree hard and didn't want to go. It seemed that they could talk and say goodbye to me after a while.
The breeze rose, and another ginkgo leaf flew from the branches. The roots of the trees were long invisible, and some road surfaces were gradually invisible. Layers of leaves, shades of yellow. Orderly and careless. If Huang wears it on his body, his skin is white and his eyes are pretty. Pedestrians passing by will look a few more eyes and feel that they are born with beauty. The road covered with ginkgo leaves, too.
At the end, the sanitation worker pushed the car and appeared, grabbing the broom and approaching. The leaves came out of the corner, gathered far and near, and the precipitated apricot was picked up. The ground was lumpy and lumpy. The last few scattered leaves all entered the four-wheeled trolley, and followed the orange figure step by step, disappearing. The streets were clear, with fine bumps and spots appearing openly. The person whose makeup was lifted off completely calmed down. When the wind blew, the original state of life was clear and clear. I stood under the willow tree opposite and looked. The sun gained some weight, and the tree was clearly defined. The leaves leave on this day, and the ginkgo tree is strong at this moment.
"Every beautiful thing will never die, they will freeze like ice, and one day they will bloom like flowers." They are always there, in another time and space, with the sun calling us to wake up every day.
Edit: Wen Chao