Time - the soul of the nest

Year-old will do, then enter a unique situation Buy FF14 Gilhere in the atmosphere. Busy weekday rush, and could feel the pressure of time, is difficult to feel the "time" exists. Time is real, time is life. But to the end of hours of time feeling Suddenly appeared. It is short, limited, impatient, you chase it behind, but still can not find it floating cited Yi Mei. It is also like a fly on the end of the bar to go toward. Wait until you really go beyond it, years have past, which left large tracts of time in the past no longer have the years of the.
Sudden power failure this evening, the dark lit candles. Candle as a bright bud, calm, floating in dark space; room is not air, it will be exceptionally light of the elegant and beautiful flower bud; a little to spread throughout the light, dim faint sketch of things. There is no electricity there is no accompanying music, but I have a better partner than the music - thinking.
But for the life of the most savvy, not ideological, but for the general public. Such as the public goes in the past few days near the end of the year called "In stalk", how real and image! It told us to immediately find a Yingying years originally green tree, we have been exhausted, only left a little bit of foundation. Time is such an urgent, constraints and, deep ... ...
All of a sudden, all year experienced all overlapping images of things piled in front. No matter how bulky these things the hard work, frustration and unexpected. I would also like to find their feet mark. Kyoto, full of fallen flowers from spring to winter rain Taizo Yang Athens Delphi empty site; from Chongqing to the tomb of the Red Guards deserted piece of magic clam Jinnan embankment; from one venue to another venue, an activity to another activity ; Which clearly still has a number of tracks in which a number of tracks Zada clean touch of fuzzy or have long since been time away?
I stared in front of heavy shadows, straining looked. At the end of candlelight spread, suddenly saw a pair of eyes at me upright. Solemn sharp eyes, watch intently from. This was my place, where a wood carving of the Northern Song Dynasty kings like. But now his eyes has become exceptionally strong. It is why the fog through the night, eight hundred years through a long, unstoppable, torture, and looked like any dare look at him on one of the people? Clearly, because 800 years ago, an unknown man folk carving vivid ability, extraordinary talent; He also a kind of manly uprightness and almost equal to the evil spirit into them. Now my unknown carving has long had no trace, but his striking has saved the life of the spirit.
Here, time is not nothing you have not gone?
Plants died, it left the seeds of life; poet left his stay in the lines where the life.
Time for the people, in fact, the process of life. When life coming to an end, not necessarily disappear without trace, and sometimes it will be transformed into another form exists or regeneration. Mother and son's life is changed, not on the renewal of the whole human? Recycling of life, is the greatest miracle of life. And herein, artists should be the happiest one. Only they can use their lives to recreating a new life. Novelist recycling figure is from generation to generation; composers recycling their fascinating that you can hear the soul forever.
At this point, my eye sparkling, wide vision, all the art treasures in the room are a little to show. They are not to be candle lit, but was suddenly awakened mind I call out.
In fact, I clearest and most profound fooFF14 Gil
tprint, should be the desk below, cement floor of the two by their own feet ground into the shallow pit. Only time I was settled here, it will not disappear, but by me into a different one they live independent lives, and the text line by line and never fade. However, the year how many times I cast into the hubbub, or paid to these fleeting illusion of social scene. And sometimes even their own time they became someone else's gift. Review it yourself to create characters, weigh how long their life span. The artist's life is his art of life measurement. Each of the artists are likely to be permanent, can only give out their own. Is not it?
Song kings face that stared at me, so I answered.
I am speechless and embarrassed to the self-inductance embarrassed.
Suddenly, the electricity came, lights are turned on, things Tung Ming, Huang Ru replacement world. Just wide patch of quiet far-reaching ideas in the world suddenly is not, only air from the burning candle, redundant. Song of the King look like that, like the light in a change of air, not so aggressive with.
I also do not answer him because I have answered myselfFFXIV Gil
.