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Shake around (16th Nov 22 at 1:45am UTC)
My cold milk, my lonely night, my delicate strings, where are you? Do you miss me as much as I miss you? Do you greet sharp separations with passion, as I do? Do you sleep with my name in the middle of the night? When you think of me, do you feel happy and sweet? Do you think about meeting me day and night? When you ***, will you shout my name in your heart? When you drive through the street, will you be frightened by a figure like mine and burst into tears? When we are apart, will you look forward to the tenderness in your memory? When you eat, will you think of the poor soup noodles we ate together in the small bowl? When you are chatting, do you think I am sitting in the corner of the bed and listening? Have you ever dreamed of me? What do I look like in a dream? Will your soft voice bring you the same enthusiasm and tenderness as mine? Can you feel the warmth of our fusion on your beautiful flower sheets? Do you have a nice pair of satin shoes? The tape that was played that day is still in the cassette of the recorder. Do you remember which song it was? My beautiful long eyelashes, can you know how much I love you now? Do you know how much I need you endlessly and never get tired of it? My dark eyes, how many times have you smiled since you left me? Do you really feel happy when you laugh? My lovely little mouth, when you think of the soft touch caused by kissing again, will you seek other tenderness? Remember the last time we had sex? Remember the thunder? I tell you, there is thunder in the sky, and you ask me, is it true? Did you notice the storm outside the window later? Every time you get a call from me, is your hand shaking when you hold the phone? After hearing my voice, is your heart as crazy as the voice you heard? My dear tears, my dear night, my dear silence, my dear autumn, my sweet little breasts, my sweet voice, my darling ankles,asrs warehouse, my beloved fingers, my darling waist, my beloved short-haired Alai, do you hear me? Through the night, can you see my crazy eyes, anxiously looking at your ubiquitous figure in the dark? In your dreams, can you feel my chapped lips sucking hungrily at your desperate love? Can your cheeks feel warm in the flapping flames of my tattered wings? Can you still love? Are you the soulful night wind or the soulless body of desire? Do you understand the language I speak only for you? My long black hair, my long thin hair, my long crying hair,warehouse storage racks, my thick braids, my thin braids, my short melancholy hair, My short quivering hair, My countless short hair in the wind, My orange, My turquoise, My sky blue, My gold, My silver white, My moaning, My boat, My waves, My withered chrysanthemum. My withered chrysanthemums, my broken vines, my indifferent butterflies, my sad dew, my bitter sea water, teardrop pallet racking ,Automated warehouse systems, my dumb fish, my beautiful autumn light, the long hair I bite in my mouth, my only long hair.. Alai, I will call your name wandering in the streets of Beijing, I will ask you to walk with me, I will take you through the long time, I will ask you to close your eyes, let you forget fear, let you get peace, let you feel happy. 251 When I am sad, no matter what time it is, I don't like to be noticed by others, in fact, there is no special reason, just don't like it. I know, everything is a passing cloud. I like Alai very much. Alai always says to me, "Don't tell others that you feel bad today. Don't say anything to others, because it's useless to say it.". I believe everything Alai says. wWw. xiAoshUotxt.cOm Dangling postscript ! Xiao @ said # txt $Tiantang & I was twenty-seven years old when "Dangling" was finished, and my youth came to an end.
Now I am in my early thirties, and when I read the book I wrote a few years ago again, I feel more or less sad. If words still have some meaning, I think one of its meanings is that words can record something that will disappear completely from someone with the passage of time. I mean things that will not come back after they are lost, like virginity and so on. They often appear only once in a person's body. So, I think, no matter what I call this book, there is always something ineffable in it for me, and at this point, and only at this point, I think these words, which took me a lot of time to write, are valid. As for the book itself, I don't think I can say much here. My job is to finish it and publish it, that's all. But I still hope that although my personal wishes are so small and insignificant, I can't help thinking that if, for whatever reason, some people can get pleasure from this book, then I can subjectively infer that their pleasure has some connection with me, and that it will give me some pleasure and satisfaction to think so. Of course, I have my own evaluation of my book, which has nothing to do with the reader. When the book is in the hands of the reader, it is totally divorced from me. Although I admit that I have a curiosity about the reader and want to know how the reader feels, at the same time, according to my own reading experience, I believe that everyone has his own reading interest, which is mysterious to the author. When I wrote this book, I was called "angry youth" by my friends. At that time, I was not used to anything. I would say anything about anything. After all, I was young, stupid, thoughtless and full of vitality. When the book was finished, I did not even accept the opinions of people who did not like it. In fact, at that time, I did not intend to accept any opinions or suggestions. At that time, I felt that facts spoke louder than words, threatening that "if anyone thought my writing was not good, he would write a good book and read it himself." Moreover,pallet rack shelving, it was ridiculous to say that my original intention of writing this book at that time was that since "I didn't see any good books in my field of vision," I didn't want to go on. I was really embarrassed for my twenty-seven-year-old self. Including vanity, are very funny.
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