What about Liuyi Economic Society in Lianhe Village, Shiling Town, Huadu District?

Give up silently every time, give up a friend who has been in love for a long time but has no chance; Give up some investment but get nothing; Give up some spiritual expectation; Give up an idea. There will be a kind of sadness at this time, but this kind of sadness does not prevent us from starting over.

Listen to the music again in the new time and space; Tell the story again! Because this is a natural farewell and abandonment, full of detached spirit, because of the sad beauty!

There is a feeling that I hope it will last forever. It took many years to find that it had faded away. Later, I realized that what we hold in our hands is not necessarily what we really have, what we have and what we really remember! Then I understand that life often needs a pair of silent care and conscious giving up!

There are too many beautiful things and people in the world. We have been fighting for the beauty we don't have. In order to be busy, it often takes many years to understand what we really need and really want, and even we don't know what to do for the rest of our lives! For the beauty we already have, we are uneasy and worried because of the experiences we often get and lose.

The sigh of the sunset is easy to lose, and the troubles of bloom's flowers fall. Life is not satisfactory! Because when we have it, we may lose it, and when we give it up, we may regain it. We cannot be absolutely sure of everything. If you pay tribute to the pursuit of possession, it will be difficult to get out of the external things and then get out of yourself, and the involuntary sadness and sorrow for life will be even heavier!

Therefore, life needs to sublimate a quiet and transcendental spirit. Understand people know how to give up, sincere people know how to sacrifice, and happy people know how to be detached! After several years, we will be more satisfied when we know that the people we like are doing well! "I didn't come to this world because of you, but because you are more attached to this world. If I can be with you, I will walk away silently, but I still won't lose my love and gratitude for this world-thank God for letting me meet you and leave you, and finish a poem created by God! " Life has given us endless sorrow; It also gives us an eternal answer. So, I gave up safely and insisted on a detachment!

No matter how the world of mortals changes, no matter how individuals choose, no matter how heavy the things in our hands are, we are brave enough to escape, but we are sad and gratified!

Giving up is not flinching, but making another choice for a new goal. Life is to keep pursuing and at the same time keep giving up. As usual, we yearn for the depths of life. As usual, we are gradually giving up and becoming firm!

I will always wake up my night and start tomorrow without you. -How far is forever?

Sad light rain gently beats this spring, like lovers' tears, nourishing this day and the wind of this season. With a little regret, it swept every corner and awakened any sleeping seed in the world.

Can't stand the temptation of rain and water, I walk in the rain, wandering quietly, thinking about the beauty of moistening things quietly, and I can't hide my heart at this moment. The Spring Festival on the roadside also opened early. Small yellow flowers, you are next to me, I am squeezing you, they are happily competing for the love of this spring; The flower buds of oleander are swaying gently in the rain, as if shy and avoiding my eyes. There is one here and one there in bits and pieces, which seems to be spying. Looking around at me, a person who doesn't know flowers, I think of a sentence: when the mountain flowers are in full bloom, she laughs among the flowers, and so on; On the soft willow branches, the old leaves did not fade, but were left by the new green and returned to their own land. It has always been like this, and it has never changed.

Looking up, I saw that this day, which should have been bright, seemed so gloomy and aroused the solved death. This is a beautiful season, and I don't want my mood to be infected by this beautiful comedy, so all I can do is bring her the most rare brilliance and decorate this flowery spring day.

Because I want to remember that this spring, I have been here without sadness, so good.

Suddenly, I stopped there, and the broken things came and went and hit me. I am like a boat, drifting and stranded, but I try my best to keep myself from being knocked down by the wind and waves.

I like to go with the flow. Shallow is muddling along. I don't want to pester anyone or anything with peace of mind. A little hobby is enough. Between lust and red tea cups is not what I want.

It seems that I have planned to learn painting for a long time, but I am vaguely far away. I always want to do all the things I like while I am alive. At least at the moment I leave, I won't have the slightest regret, because we all know that something has been done, but the result is irreparable, so let it be buried with me. I also want to learn guitar. I can play my own voice quietly and write songs for myself. ......

In this rainy season, what I feel most is the sadness of parting. Although I don't have much time here, I deeply like the people here, the things here, the flowers here and everything here. I can't let go of that wonderful encounter. If there is an opportunity in the future, I want to go back to school to make up for my youth that has grown old with the wind. I'm going to infiltrate every land here and tell her I'm back.

Always playing the fool, cheating others, telling others their mediocrity, as if begging for a little pity. It's ridiculous to let everything go to waste when you know it but don't act on it. Go, go, go, go, this damn youth with nowhere to put it, goes with the years, I won't miss it.

You said it would still clear up, right?

Expect.

Flowering in July

Days are counted page by page, and time passes by minute by minute. The sun is awakened by a high temperature called summer. Get up early, climb on the windowsill, covered by moss marks in the wind last night. The light rain that came and went suddenly soaked the dragonfly's wings, but never wet the sentimental poem. Sitting in a small room facing south, the wind is tight and small, and the child next door knocks on a sleeping door with a child's voice.

Sitting in front of the window on a hot summer day, watching the sun getting closer and closer, the shadow is getting shorter and shorter, perhaps shrinking into a point, shrinking into a round red mole in human life, or even getting nothing. The shadow is you or me, and I don't forget every minute. Is a flower also blooming in your hands, slowly unfolding its delicate beauty, and then slowly fading in the scorching sun, so that the swan song of the flower faces the sea, and the surging wings around it blow the green branches and leaves that I have been attached to all my life, warming my journey day by day.

In July, the calendar was ruthlessly opened by the wind. In July, acacia is nowhere to be found. Not only that face, but also that person, gradually blurred. Add a little more water to the cup and put all the books in the drawer, but I can't put my thoughts in the bag. On some dark nights, there are faded fragments floating in my heart, and there is a slow mist behind my smile, singing silently: I understand that when you come back, there is no proof that the fragrant memories will be covered with moss forever. It's spring, the train is far away and the summer is long. I have been tempered into an iron body, counting the stars and pretending that everything is back to yesterday.

I always thought life would be like this. I always thought that the floating white window lattice revealed only plain singing. Unexpectedly, there will be such an encounter. Clear eyes, sad words, dim background, everything will become beautiful and magnificent because of that moment. Seven colors of light are projected on the outstretched hand, slender and soft, and blue flowers bloom with the clouds at the fingertips. Oh, time is waiting for me, waiting for me in rainy days, and I'm still waiting for you to pop up the sound of mountains and rivers in my mind.

Miss, get, wait, lose, unhappy, unhappy, and at the last moment, it will eventually become empty. Will leave in July. My hands are covered with dust. The petals fall all over the path in July, and the rain in July is sprayed wantonly. The streets in July are very cold. Walking from street to street, there was no one. I can't find a mask for the demonstration. I am destined to stand on your branch in a simple way. Pedestrians left without makeup. I will become another kind of lotus with clear soup and dried noodles. Who will stop and who will get hurt?

In July, I lost Chun Qing for a season because of your departure. When these flowers are blown by the wind, they bloom. When you left, I found sadness. Work at sunrise, rest at sunset, and night falls. Your shadow stubbornly follows, you can't find a flame to distract your attention, and you can't find a song to bury you. No matter how deep you hide, you can't escape your eyes. Why don't we sit still, look, think deeply, penetrate time, turn red gradually, and the fiery red cloud on the horizon-

Millennium moonlight, gradually illusory. In July, I bared my teeth in a quiet night. When you hit the keyboard, many words will pop up. Some sentences, like steel needles in the text, plunge into the skin and viscera, which always hurts the heart and lungs. Like some notes, they bloom in the dark, and the sound is high and low. Perhaps, along the tunnel of time, I pushed open the emotional wall, fell into your arms, stayed silent all night, and even for the rest of my life, you will hear the words in my heart?

The face in the diamond-shaped mirror in the morning is dim, which is because the sunshine in July is blazing, the ultraviolet ray concentration is high, and the body temperature is burning. No, just no lively singing, no inspiring words, no hearty agreement. The flower buds outside the wall have renovated the calendar again, and those clever steps in the past have been drawn long by the time corridor. The looming aperture in the distance is close to me. Stretch and close, close your blurred but clear sight. Whose head shows the simplicity of wind and frost first, one or two clumps, thin and dense, even if it is uprooted, it still can't get rid of the entangled heart.

Leaves fall gently around me, rustling. Some stories are far away, others are close. Jiangnan in July is full of water conditions. It's just summer in the south of the Yangtze River. Flowers fall in bloom, roses extend to the center of the earth, and the rain grows fiercely. The gorgeous figure is just words, but the pale figure is out of sight. Have you ever regretted it? It's too hot here. Did you go through the nearby wall to visit the quietly blooming roses outside the door? I kissed my lips last year. Was it your kiss? I imagine lovers for many years, broken one by one because of you.

In July, you stood in the wind. In the song-like years, love and flying are another concept. Love is never known until it is separated, which is unforgettable. However, dullness is also a state of mind. You look focused and never give up. In a unique scene, your clear song blows, your flowing music pours down, and the feelings you have accumulated for many years are full of satisfaction and sweetness through Bloom's voice, slowly spreading your soft wings on the night of love. If I understand, separate articles converge on calmness.

Gradually bloom. When the soul is near, the water is clear. Real smiles are dense, and the reality of clusters of languages is superimposed. Through the jungle of the years, the refined style makes the flame flying forty miles fall from the glass wreath, let the butterflies flying all over the sky walk hand in hand with the breeze, and let the passion and words expose the most primitive truth in the noble soul. Bloom's silence speaks louder than words, witnessing the burning sunshine in July, and the holy lotus blooms in lines of poems. Looking back brightly, there is a warm bloom in the faint pain.