After a long time, the big skeleton stopped crying sadly, and was silent for a long time, without making a sound.

"What is a human being, boy, and how many types there are, do you know?" asked the big skeleton grimly.

After Ah Lang listened to the words of the big skeleton, he was stunned for a moment, and said secretly in his heart: This portrait was conjured up by my mind, and I am just in my own mind now, how can he ask me?

"Don't wonder how I asked you, young man, for I will explain the reason for this later, and you will answer my question first. The big skeleton's two deep eyes looked like Ah Lang.

Ah Lang did not shy away from it, but also looked directly into the eyes of the big skeleton, and said in a deep voice: "There are two paintings of the human character, one skimming and one pinching, skimming the innate body, and the acquired thought without thought, people will collapse; The same skin, containing different thoughts, is a myriad of human appearances: some are good, some are evil, some are clean, and some are dirty. There are countless complaints, and it is difficult to say them all in words. ”

"What a young man, a good person with two words and two paintings, one for the innate body, and one for the acquired thought. A good skin with different thoughts, is a thousand human appearances. To put it succinctly, to the point. Hahaha......" After the big skeleton finished speaking, he looked up at the sky and laughed wildly, which was exactly the same as the laughter of the handsome young man in the brocade and purple robe in the battlefield scene just now, without the slightest difference, it was the same person.

Ah Lang looked at the big skeleton with a little surprise, obviously from the laughter, he realized that the two were the same person, but why did the handsome young man in the brocade and purple robe become such a miserable appearance today, Ah Lang was puzzled in his heart.

After a long time, the big skeleton looked at Ah Lang again and asked, "Young man, who will have a tragedy?"

After Ah Lang listened to the words of the big skeleton, he secretly said in his heart: This goods have a hammer in the east and an ax in the west, how can they say some inconsequential and aimless words.

But he hurriedly replied: "Tragedy mostly happens to two kinds of people, one is too smart and the other is too stupid. The former often plays with fire**, and the latter is always messing around. ”

After listening to Ah Lang's words, the big skeleton looked up to the sky and let out a long sigh, staring at the end of the sky with empty eyes for a long time, and muttered softly......

Life is as gorgeous as summer flowers, and death is as quiet and beautiful as autumn leaves. Walking on the road of life, singing and walking, drunk and awake, sad and happy. Flowers bloom and fall, four seasons of life. Wait in reincarnation, wash away the lead in waiting. It is like a year of flowing water, and it flows in a hurry. Some people couldn't help but sigh at the raging river, and the deceased was like a husband.

Under the shallow reflection of the sunset, the old man who was hidden in the countryside also stroked his beard and sighed, both with his eyes in the shape of his heart, and with melancholy and lonely sorrow. And I am independent of the silence under the dim street lamp shrouded in the night, but my soul lasts for eternity, and my blood is churning. This made me suddenly feel that I was not a lonely nightcrawler on the road of life. As long as I never stop, I will meet fellow travelers.

Looking back at everything, it seems like yesterday, but yesterday is very far away.

Why take a joke too seriously, why be persistent in a dream, why be reluctant to give up some people, and miss some things too much.

What doesn't belong to me, give it to me, I don't want it, and what belongs to me, even if I don't want it, it's still mine.

The joys and sorrows that have passed have been carved into memories, and every inadvertent moment of thought has left scars in the memories.

A sense of superfluity

Injuries should be eliminated, some things may we should learn to see, some people may we should learn to forgive.

The reality is too cruel, and there is less trust in others. The world is too complicated, and there is no such simplicity for yourself.

Sometimes, the truth may be so heavy that even you deceive. Happiness is always too short-lived, and when happiness leaves, there is pain, tears, and nostalgia to spend with us.

No one cares, I can still live well, there will be gain, there will be gain, there will be loss, there will be sadness, there will be sadness, there will be sadness, there will be happiness, there will be pain, if some people are destined to be passers-by, why provoke at first. In my world, there are passers-by who pass by me, and at the moment they rub shoulders, they have left happiness, heartbeat, pain, tears, touching, sadness, regret... All kinds of emotional tones.

I've cried, laughed, and grieved so sadly, loved, hated, and forgotten so happy, giving, crazy, and in the end I'm alone.

Those years, those places, those people, those things, are like a dream, a legend, a history......

The scenery along the road, I can only forget as I walk, the sky I want, is so hard to get.

After all, memories are just memories, it only represents a past, a history, no matter how beautiful the memories are, they are only the past, say goodbye to the past, and look forward to the future.

Say "goodbye" to the past and "wait for me" to the future.

Ah Lang frowned when he heard this, but the big skeleton went his own way, no matter what Ah Lang did, he still kept muttering to himself......

A zigzag loneliness, plain and shallow with the season, stretches at the end of the heart. I know, I have been to your heart, my heart has your footprints, a touch of the end of the world incense and two piercing hearts, dipped in the thin ancients, falling "flowing water and flowers go in spring, heaven and earth." The fragrance of grief.

Linyi landscape, describing a heart, silently in the heart, closed attachment, let the past flow, let the sigh blow the words, cover in the distant wind of the pillow, all the way, all the way twist. Pick up the words, the heart of the flute, in the lotus through the palm of the drift, you foam with the warm attitude of the camphor away from me. Have you ever looked back? The swaggering smoke and rain in the ink are blurred. Some thoughts, some expressions, in the formatting of the painful years, may not be able to really dry and delete. Perhaps, in some old corner, it will still pass through the dust of the heart, walk back, stand in front of the heart, and look silently at the soul.

The heart is windy, the glass of the past is solved, the thought of stretching is delicate, the lead of the dyeing, the attachment of the water, the smoke curling in the text, and the eyes of the dream are getting longer and longer. Missing, in the tears that seem to be calm as water but flowing down when you turn around, gently open and open your lonely face like a flower. The fragrance of a lifetime of sleeping, I stand solemnly as a watchman coveted by the sky, flowing into a distant death and life on the red dust stave, in the slanted window of the book, running wildly into the sunset dusk, the muddy and sad sorrow on the back of the desolate horse. The thought of the evening breeze opening, caressing the face across the mountains and waters, Rongchuan Wenling made an oath never to give up. A wisp of pale incense wafts through the nomadic love song, tossing and turning the end of the pen and the end of the word, lingering. The end of the world, the gloomy heart, in the messy Weiyang, the vicissitudes of the rhyme and gallop for a long time.

Can love really be buried? In the burial of the past again and again, it hurts deeper and hurts deeper again and again. The heart is so small, so small that it can only accommodate you alone.

Dream of thousands of trees and flowers, turn a curtain of red dust and farewell, like a flower blooming, let the night pass away warmly. I know that you are a very faint wisp picked by the years, only lingering in the pen

end, not in the water heart of the clouds slightly. Put a shallow winter to think of warmth, the word quiet is leisurely, who is meeting to write the fragrance? filter out the sentimentality of the past, let the crying sand fill the veil of life. Perhaps, you are my hairpin butterfly, chasing my final thoughts. In the words of Yan Shan, my heart flutters, and in the trembling pain of youth, let a wisp of thought send each other back to the place where the soul is placed.

Time flies, and in a blink of an eye, it is another flower blooming and falling. The trembling bosom in the extreme pen, the mountains are higher, the mountains are farther, and the thoughts are getting longer and longer. Suddenly looking back at the heart buried in the millennium, the red dust in the south of the Yangtze River, the night rain in Bashan, and the coolness that has been walked all the way is no longer the original appearance. A smile can hardly hide the desolation of the past. The hourglass of spring flowers and autumn moon, little by little, butterfly wings are as fragile as the warm sand and the blazing mood on the beach. The hazy heartscape, the dark fragrance, after walking such a long way, no one has seen the scenery through. The light moon of the passing years is still singing in the heart of the years, but those thick heart days, the shadows and shadows, and the flow of the veins have become the warm winter sun that I touch.

Obsessed with the blue and white flowers, the glimpse of the joy and condensation, the eyes of the hurry, how many scenery and how many inexplicable sorrows, the journey of thinking, how far away? on the way home. How many times do you have a sudden flower injury? A few times, a few times, and finally become each other's bruises. How many sketches are there? Don't, the smoke is mighty. Reading, a trip to the mountain, a trip to the water. The volume is also vicissitudes, and Shu is also vicissitudes. The corner of thought, the end of the heart, let go is boundless, forget is boundless. The dusty road, perhaps, you are my strongest eyes, the best to see the wind, listen to the rain, and think in the clear moon of tossing and turning.

Twist a handful of silence and bury the thoughts in the clear pouring of the years. The broken pen is the wind, the origami is the cloud, and the thick cloudy sky is covered with a thick cloudy sky, so that the heart has no words. In the mountains and rivers you left, I made fun of Jing as a string, took the light yarn man dance as a chant, played the appearance of an encounter, and wrapped around a case of glass. Take the posture of a flower, step on the heart petal road, pour your eyes warm, walk all the way forward with a longing mood, walk into a shallow thought, in the fine scroll of stepping on the moon and the wind, look at a safe place.

When piling up the word Su New Year's brocade, build a guard of the fragrance of flowers, wait for the light, on the light of the year, hot a piece of soul light, drink a bottle of plain brush. The dream of words is secluded, and in the clear water and clear water, the warm flow of a thought, tears away the sorrow of Jiangfeng's fishing fire, and cleanses the annihilation of the past events. Thinking of a drop of love, snuggling into the dust of the day, opening the heart sand leaning on the railing, creeping in the melting heart, let the shallow ripples interpret the charm of the memory of the thin shadow Tingting. Let the thoughts soar through the clouds of thoughts. Push away the incense, the curtain rolls the west wind, and blows away a pillow of dreams with plain ink and lotus incense.

Painted with colored pencils, depicting dreams and joy. In the heart path full of the past, holding hands and holding thoughts, bathing in the heart scroll of the passing years, occasionally picking up a touch of colorful memories, dipping and guarding, straightening out the heart silk that is blown by the dust and wind, listening to the small sound of trampling on the years in my heart, reading a chapter of waterfront dressing, and watching a shallow smile ripples. Acacia is not only sad, but also a smile hand in hand with wind and rain! The moment the memory falls, I have never doubted the deep affection of my heart for you. Even if I drift away, I will fall into your dust, turn into a pinch of dust, and quietly accompany you.

When the season of heart takes away the heat and heat of the mortal dust, the light of the past has stepped on the desolation of a season. The wandering of half a lifetime may take away a lot of things, such as the pen of the sling, the clear heart of the water, the face of ink makeup, the only thing that cannot be taken away is your stationing in my heart, a gaze that is so thick that it cannot be dissolved.

When encountered, the mind is broken. Carved a touch of ink dream stretch, carved a heart white and warm, you are a charming scenery on my road, when a ray of light penetrates the gap between tossing and turning, write your eternal name, the road, suddenly bright and clear. Warm, feathered into the ripples in the heart canal, dancing with the graceful posture of encountering, and indulging in dreams with Nian!