掲示板お問い合わせランダムジャンプ

2018年02月07日
The platform is like a migratory bird

The night car passes through the sleep of the stranger, a flash of yellow light as if in the sleep wave in the heart ripples.
All slept soundly, and in the soft quilts they breathed as softly as they could, as if they were sitting quietly in the night.
Only the platform was alive and alive, bustling, and the steam from the outside was a white plume of white smoke.
People indifferent, holding nothing risked oil of all kinds of instant noodles master of business administration hong kong, HuLuLu there eating in front of each seat and said, and various kinds of tongues with each other, like a drama.
Platform, the staff is carrying a small flag, command the train coming and going, those long short train, some old, full of stains or spots, some brand new clear, just like physical heritage, conveniently relay.
The platform entered late into the night, gradually feeling tired, and everyone yawned, and the drowsiness after the warmth was like a thick layer of atmosphere, enveloping everyone's heavy body virtual office mongkok.
People with sleepy eyes, staring at the upstairs suspension train schedules, that red Numbers as if the night ask the spirits in general, change the scratch, stimulate the drift of the everyone is more or less.
Maybe after many times of the platform, to feel the taste of parting, gradually lost the original, more lost to the distance is yearning, that desire is filled with the same neon neon, etched in the mind of the melody on each away land total.
It is like a migratory bird. The comings and goings of the platform, such as the season as the climate migratory birds, and even every city designers, will be the platform designed different wings of birds, like dapeng wings to fly.
There are many platforms, and every platform is full of people. Perhaps every time I leave or return, it seems as if with the flow Massage Cushion, each journey is full of hustle and bustle.
Platform when I was in the middle of the night, sitting in the rows of silver chair, all around is sleepy, or sit, or lie down, eyes drift to where, in the early years of time, I like in a ear plugs in his ears, music on the loudest, staring at the hand of the electric card electronic reader, we can see a night, until the train roared, to become rub eyes, like a quiet birds taking off, say goodbye to the warm of the platform.
On the platform were filled with off people, on the face is full of yearning, as if out of hand is farewell, darting attire, cracked, like also want wings and fly, to somewhere unknown as the long train.
Steaming on the platform, left, the platform for several woman pushing a tall wagon, above filled up with all kinds of food and beverage, sausages, instant noodles, spicy dry tofu, alcoholic peanut, corn cob, glutinous rice cake, and disposable lunch box.
I like to run after a long train, full of people smell, feet smell, sweat, mouth smell, hair taste, really feel in the crowd, like in a tornado.
General green train window is shut, it is difficult to open, several middle-aged man between carriages are puffing away, as if in a smoky chimney, reminds me somehow of the late winter of the burning of straw in the field.
Burning, like this all burnt residue in the earth, water, as if to confirm the charm of spring breeze general, will be the next moment of born again when the spring breeze blows, to witness the miracle of all things.
Back on the platform, I like in each platform briefly, for a walk and see every busy or quiet platform, full of people, some platform combined with vendors hawking's voice is exceptionally strong, as if this platform must be colorful to disperse the sentimental and cold and cheerless.
I like small station, the train was almost don't stop, because the platform is too small, is just a red brick house, in front brush on a few white, which station in the so-and-so, then station alone stood a tree leaf sparse poplar or elm.
We are not going to stay, like a bird in the distance. Every time when I stood on the platform, the thick sense of time, the distance of the wind through the history of a heavy and heavy bondage only, and we like the world of every guest, feeling the fly off of lightness.
Longing for every platform, I have not gone to the platform for a long time, it is looking at every person coming and going, like in the heart of a migratory bird hiding a flying secret.

[ 投稿者:weuieri at 13:38 | weuieri | コメント(0) | トラックバック(0) ]

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