白云帖现在不谈爱情,这个季节还有一小片尘埃盛开,或长或短,时间停滞在某一刻。空闲可以坐在椅子之上,孤独或是调侃,一棵树抚摸过的伤,安详成一片盛开的花。云朵可以行走,尘埃累积起来的荒芜倒挂在虚空以上,云层真实而庞大,一阵风吹来,这才是真正的安静。虚实相间,显然风吹得不够大,即使风再大,我们也会辜负树木、枯草以及荆棘。 Baiyun now talk about love, this season there is a small piece of dust in full bloom, or long or short, time stagnation at a moment. Idle can sit on the chair, lonely or ridicule, a tree stroking the wound, peacefully into a blooming flower. The clouds can walk, the accumulation of the barren upside down in the void, the cloud is real and huge, a gust of wind, this is the real quiet. It is obvious that the winds are not big enough between the actual and the actual situation. Even if the wind is bigger, we will live up to the trees, the haystacks and the thorns.