Memories enter in sobriety. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

His eye socket was embedded with a bright eyeball, with the precision of mechanical rain, and the withering of logical clouds.

The crowd was curious and did not dare to approach.

I stared at him, a loving father so weird, detached from all the meanings I've ever seen in my life.

What is he?

And in the case of throat reactivation, I don't think the problem needs to be explained.

The first thing I did, after he had all his bodies fitted, began to be whole.

I don't dare to say, happy, I regret it with tears.

He was still smiling, as if there was no sad expression ever existing, and what was the bottom of that layer of moving skin.

"I'm a writer. I am the writer who writes, I write my own book, I write your blood. ”

Given the unfamiliarity of the concept of the writer, the improvised brain has been overclocked, and everything is a "discursive structure" that can be deconstructed and controlled.

"You're not the Black Cross, that's the name your child gave you."

You can hear it, what a perfect sound, without the slightest flaw, it is a pure element in the auditory sense, and it will not make you feel lonely and uncomfortable when it hits the steelmaking hammer at the inner core of the mind.

"You shouldn't ask questions, you don't know if I'll tell you, so you're testing the secret after all."

"Forever....... Lifetime? ”

"You are my part, the part of the world."

The crowd was boiling, and I heard someone cheering.

Everything went grotesquely, in an unusual direction, in front of the huge Abyss Pavilion, White Cross still struggled to find what he had lost. She had never been so lonely until he was born, after her body had also experienced helplessness in pain.

"The world gave birth to her, assembled you, a man, a thing."

The body left the ground and rose into his arms, like clouds, obscuring the night sky and the twitching of my face.

"Is the world a person, I don't understand."

I hugged the Black Cross and took pity on her never-ending coldness and ignorance. Life in chaos cannot be described, and I have moved away from Eden and achieved a crimson written on the page.

"The world is a dead woman, you are a piece, a character, writing the "meaning" and "legend" of other people. Everyone, you who live here, admire us with your most sincere eyes, this is the truth, the kindest face and the manifestation of Logos. ”

In the end, he spoke up.

Eventually, she curled up on her skeleton, the gauze between her thighs covered with faded flowers. Red, white, red and white, and finally blended together with pink, or, described as extremely vivid black.

"Are you really a writer?"

I threw her down hard, and people sighed, because the girl could only lie on her stomach, go to see, and ask.

"Then you can only hear these wonderful lies and fairy tales."

I still don't forget that pathetic self-esteem, I skimmed my hand and dragged the hem of my skirt up to my waist.

"I can't leave my children behind."

"The child's child is not sensible yet."

The little boy grabbed the briefcase, and on top was a brass clasp, curved, intricately carved handles, and silver-white hem guards, snapping, kissing the ground. The arm was deep in it, not like looking for something, and a roar came from the bag.

It fell out of the ruins, its wounds glowing, and it had to come out of its heavy armor, and its intact dragon scales made the glasses that the man had just put on fall again.

It's obsidian.

The length of the briefcase is pulled by the golden light track to form a huge sky-shading plane, and in the center of the red and black picture frame, the black cross barely stands up, familiar with her body, it is a difficult enjoyment, therefore, she opens her mouth, blushes, and walks, mechanically, sliding the various parts of the space.

Jingling.

The people under the torii gate panicked.

Peeking through the crack in the door, there was another world, existing in the dream world.

"Someone wants to rewrite the Dream Dictionary?"

"But Yumedian isn't now... After that it will be! ”

The eyes of the world are strong, and they are three points into the eye, and they are drilled out through the woman's kimono, shining secretly.

She opened her collar, and the eyes on ** were hideous, and the dark red opposite to the skin was distinct.

"The eyes are smiling."

At the end of the scabbard of the Changtai Knife fell with a tiger's mouth white jade, she was an unfaced warrior and the master of the Extreme Abyss Pavilion.

"A woman."

"A woman, that's it! Write to me! ”

The young man held his head in the light and grabbed the girl's fingers roughly.

The fingers dodge and are chopped up.

"Write-!"

The black cross wept in the light, and in the bottom of my heart, my color, was ostracized, and could not be here.

He created hell in my house.

He is the "architect", the one who built everything, the world through the eyes of my ravaged history, the white cross.

It was a mistake, that child, the girl who stood opposite me, the White Cross, saw all this, it was my fault. That's right, I'm a good mother with a mental disorder, an intermittent violent father, and my personality is leaking out, so much so that I am played by him and secretly live in the game.

"Write-ah!"

He roared more than three feet, riding on the back of a black cross, swaying countless white hairs in the air, and the pupils of the [Eyes of the World] danced on the lenses. It was really not possible, and God lost patience, and people fled in his ups and downs, their footsteps were loud, but they could not scream, and the dragon's teeth provoked the old man's neck.

...... I still can't swing my measure.

"Hey, toys."

The black cross covered his lower body and moved his arm to the side, looking for the whereabouts of his right arm.

The lenses were grinded, the old man got up, snorted to the ground, and the white cloth strips pierced into the air.

One kick.

When it was taken, it rolled out from behind the Extreme Abyss Pavilion, the dragon's head was shriveled, the dragon scales cut the dragon scales, and the air pressure had not yet contracted, and it was still expanding.

"Is it fun?"

From the vestibule, attic, walkway, backyard, garden, and hot spring temple, the dragon body smashed over 100 meters, and the old man took his feet.

Inside those boots.

Picked up by the writer, I watched the creation disappear like this, and my heart ached.

"Excessive love."

The little boy licked the blood stains on his mouth.

The pen between his fingers was also taken away, and his eyes were full of patterns, and there was no clear sight in them. I was so engrossed that I forgot the little circle on my arm.

"You're going to write it after all, my child. The writer can't be me alone," I could no longer control the rhythm of my five fingers, and I used that blue-lacquered pen to write the handwriting on the light curtain. "I'm sorry, I've lost the right to speak, so I'll bother you for the time being, Miss White Night."

No, it's not mine, it's not mine......

The writer is too strange ....

My baby....

My hand.

"My hand ......."

The lines make up the signifiers, the signs form the signifiers, and the signifiers follow one after the other. In the world, humans use symbols to describe sight, hearing, touch, and even sensation. They were too presumptuous, and as a result, they found war, sickness, pain, and death in the symbols.

Symbols will envy each other and compete for the space that exists on paper, and as a result, illusions are forbidden and history is usurped.

Ink also began to become expensive, so people switched to oral narratives, preferring to live in legends.

When ink was cheap, no one could write.

Writing, as a prehistoric technique, is lost, lost forever.

Fantasy, reborn, a performer in a wild posture, grabbed people's throats and turned on the spotlight.

"Ouroboros, Klein Bottle, Infinite Plane, Circle of Meaning. This is a song of "nothing" dedication. Listen up. ”

After speaking, the writer turned into an abstract line, the corners of the old man's eyes, the bridge of the young man's nose, and the corner of the child's mouth.

"Salute! To, great language! ”

On the ground, the red and black picture frames walked away, revealing the bodies of black and white crosses.

The hem of her skirt covered the other, one hand around the waist of the white cross, and her chin rested on top of her head.

Someone made a rain and tried to wash away the blood and mud.

She tapped the crescent moon in the puddle with her fingertips.

See a star clearly.

The child fell asleep in his mother's arms and had dreams about the god of wine and the sun.

In the blue-gray dust, there is brown earth.

Walking among the petals of a lost love.