在很久以前制作计划表的时候,就说每周写一篇文章。但写文章的时间被我埋没在路上,在线团,在脑空白,在脑残剧中,我悔恨的不知从何说起。到目前为止,欠了10篇了,mlgbz的。所有脑子里的东西,要写出来,是完全另一件事情了吧。
最近心情如高山流水,此起彼伏,总体low,FUCK!
SOMETHING IS UNCERTAIN. Something happened but not sure.
As Szymborska has wrote in Love at First Sight : There were sings, indications,
undecipherable, what does in matter.(有些迹象和信号存在,即使他们尚无法解读). There are too many things that I cannot understand at this moment. So I can only fancy that happened as what I think but sometimes it derails which make me unsure.
What can comfort me at this moment is the end of this poem:But every beginning is only a continuation and the book of fate is always open in the middle. So maybe I am at the beginning of the book, and the fate is not coming yet.
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