淡淡的,一幅画,色彩不素不艳,线条似有还无,意境若深若浅,既可以装下万千思念,也可以让人远远地只看一眼。那种不依不恋的清冷与独立,在这喧扰的都市中,恰到好处。静静的,一个人,不愁不怨,不悲不喜,欲走还留。该思念处神伤,该光彩处张扬。只在月光下,哭亦哭,笑亦笑,一切恰到好处。轻轻的,一本书,有悲欢苦乐、爱恨情仇。无法忘却世间冷暖,也不能不在意油盐酱醋,带着一身的烟火气,在凡俗的人间,恰到 A faint, a painting, the color is not bright, the lines seem to have no mood, if the depth of superficiality, can not only put thousands of thoughts, but also can make people look far. The kind of indifference and indifference of independence and indifference in this noisy city, just right. Quietly, a person, worry about not complain, do not sad do not like, want to leave still. The miss at the wounds, the glory of publicity. Only in the moonlight, crying and crying, laughing and laughing, everything just right. Gently, a book, there are joys and sorrows, love and hate. Can not forget the warmth of the world, but also can not but care about oil, salt and vinegar, with a smoke of fire, in the world, just right