The Summer Sunshine

In memory, when the summer sunshine and baked earth, people are hiding in the room, at this moment, the earth came not terribly ausgestorben, dead, a needle drops the ground may echo the clanking of hyperbole.

Don't think this is quiet, actually, in the quiet below, the person's heart at this time is extremely fidgety, dizziness, can not sleep, restless, sweat flow not only. But the cicada sound, from around trees place came that broke the ice. We suddenly feel like a cold water body from head to foot, a relaxed shower. Then we heart began to become quiet and comfortable, fidgety suddenly was kicked out.  Coach Madison Clover Print Op Art Sophia Carryall Light Blue

In the cicada, I listen tolled, quietly enjoy this sudden surprise. Many memories into my mind, from distant exergue began to playback, until front, to graduate this fact. Just when he was in university, I put the net to "flow bamboo", mobile bamboo. Bamboo is tough, I hope his four years in the university as a tree bamboo that perseverance. A large bamboo forest in the midst of a huge, isn't like under the bamboo in flow?

Yes, I like the bamboo, it can at any wind blowing in the wind and rain temporarily change their trend, but stand forever heel, never mobile half step. I should like the bamboo tree, both in the wind and rain, and appropriate firm ideal of elastic space.

Finally, we who also failed to stick to. Ideal, actually already buried deep in her heart.

However, there's still time. What, in the past four years of college? Let bygones be bygones. The road is more in the future, we must go further.

We headed for society, moved towards another environment. Former our own set of all, no longer appropriate. A tree only unable to walk with the wind and the bamboo, never suitable for survival in the society, social than the campus, society is the unrest. We must have greater initiative. At this moment, I think of fallen leaves, autumn leaves the wind, this is just huge in the process of its way, and finally, it still more to the final.  Coach Madison Grey Clover Print Op Art Sophia Carryall

Root, is my hometown. There is my relatives. Finally, I should return. But now, I need in the road. I think, no leaf falling, in leaving the branches of that a moment, is already lying on land it. It will drink west wind and drunk, it is not quite sober, too awake is not suitable for fluttering, and that will only make his panic and upset. Drunk, and all unknown coefficients forget first as far as possible to walk, just less fall.

Autumn is my favourite season. The cold, cold, blue empty except except zephyr, solitary birds yo-yo far to swim across the sky. One evening, in the fall, a river, or wilderness who watch the sunset, all of a sudden I teared up quietly, without any reason, is the most beautiful experience.

Well, later I was drunk west wind plain.