Stepping off a cherry blossom, heart depressed, stuffy, a dull ache Whiteboard Trolley.
That feeling, like to read Eileen Chang's love.
This life, you do not come to me, I will not go to find you, let us across the water time, keep the remaining years, each other well, secular stability.
Chewing aftertaste, more pain.
Suddenly began to miss Eileen Chang.
The legendary woman, she waved her beautiful gesture, to the desolate brush, pen a and a tragic story.
Write characters, to go, then go to the ends of the earth. Emotion and reason, not by others.
Fireworks so cool, love so hurt.
Thoughts and feelings of regret, shift. From the sky to earth, leaves the wind was buried, only due to the initial wind falling.
She loves him, is wrong? That Hu Lancheng.
Perhaps, that all the world can be wrong to judge, but love can not.
Love, is an abyss, no one can make oneself.
Even though she insight into the essence of love, even though she sophistication sophistication, awe inspiring look again how? Finally, death and life, the same lonely.
Love you, don't ask for is worth, how come back.
Once pass by, once loved, to the end, even if is only brewed a cup of bitter strong wine to drink, eyes closed.
Is beautiful, but also sadness.
Often, alone walking train road, watching a train slowly sail, sail away from.
The distance, must have the spirit of longing for heaven.
Chun Ying Ying, light rain misty. Green mist cloud, where are you?
DIY home If you can travel through space, I want to walk into love, comes into your life, not worthy of respect of flowers, don't waste good youth.
Read and love, heart cannot and must be.
Love, if the time to air dry, dry in silhouette shape, and why care about life is just a field in Yunmeng.
If can through the time, I thought back to the Republic of China, and Eileen Chang, approached her, went to her writing life, white indifferent, black darkness, rolling into a bleak, eternal life in her faint sigh.
In Changde Road, the old time, to return to the Day Three, gazing centuries deep in the bustling, looking for the one remaining desolate.
Desolate, belongs to Eileen Chang, also belongs to me.
Walking on the road in Taiyuan, I asked a young people about the former residence of Eileen Chang, the young man told me, Eileen Chang was buried in Nanjing. And then to another Shanghai local young people about, the young man thought for quite a long time to tell me, that you said, should be living in Xuhui District, the specific location is not clear.
I know, the authorities for the Eileen Chang has always been banned, for her, little is known about the people, There are plenty of people who.
Perhaps, time is too fierce too cruel, let you how brilliant, to eventually be forgotten.
With the prosperous relative, once the cosmetics gradual silence.
Love, is the unspeakable wound. Love and hatred, only resorting to paper macallan whisky.
Text, is a kind of cry, but no tears.