This is a text that touched me.

Maybe it's a special paranoia about words, but I'm a person of faith. I will not give up every book that moves me, and then write a long review. Maybe it's the providence of the underworld, even though this novel has never had high ratings, and I only have three reviews, I still believe in it - my own touch.

Yes, it belongs to the self-touching.

From the moment I came into contact with this novel, it took me nearly two hours to read the whole chapter, which is a process, from entry to text, just like from entry to birth, between these two words, but the boundary between heaven and earth.

And when I write this long review, the content of this novel has been forgotten from my mind, and what is left is only a silhouette.

And forgetting, but it is better to remember!

Therefore, I will not write a comment on the plot of the article here, and I should have my own self - the inscription.

I've read most of the articles, including novels that go from heartbeat to heartache, and make me haunt my soul with joy and sorrow. Too much emotional flow. This reminds me of Hu Bingyu's words: "Writing the coolest and thinnest words in my happiest moments, I feel like a servant on paper, using words as drama, shallow and low, turning around and singing, entertaining myself and others." ”

I think most authors will place their affection on their own writing, and the text will move as they like.

Therefore, my habit is to read the author's self-introduction after reading a book:

A quiet woman, a quiet life, a quiet writing. I think the author's bio is the most praised introduction to her article.

The text is like its people, and its people are like the text.

Therefore, this novel, which is beyond forgetting and above memory, does not have the indifferent heartbreak feeling given in the introduction, but is very tranquil and quiet.

So I would say that I would be moved by this.

After all, most of the ideas have been added to the current novels, and there are discrepancies with reality, there are life and death, ups and downs, as if one is open, and the kind of life and death love will be laid out, squeezed into the eyeballs, or let a talented and beautiful woman who is known all over the world fold a few folds, several failures, a few times and a few falls, and want to teach people to be thrilling, until "the words are not amazing and die endlessly".

That's not life.

When the novel is detached from reality, the farther away it is from reality, when people read those fictional novels in reality, when the tears are exhausted, the heart has withered, and what is still the same, too many words will make people numb.

Therefore, when reading reaches a certain level, what you must want to do is to return to the basics.

Picking chrysanthemums under the east fence, leisurely seeing Nanshan - I think, this poem is not only about life, but also about life, as well as words.

This is a state of emptiness without doing anything, although there is nothing to do.

After getting accustomed to the bright lights of the city, there will always be many people who yearn for a life in the countryside that is as long as a paradise.

It's just that it's leisurely, but it's also lonely.

Words are like life.

After seeing too many colorful chapters, there will always be a kind of throbbing. Longing for that kind of clear world, that is also a kind of admiration in the depths of the soul.

Just like the coldness of the moon, the moon stars are scarce, when the moon is full like a disk, the sky is only a bright moon.

That's the lonely self, because of its own protection, it insists alone.

I said that I was moved: because the literary world has been lonely from beginning to end.

The height of the up, the strength of the drill. Beauty can also become a limitation.