Happiness, perhaps an immediate defensive day breakdown of diversion of light and shadow. Make every meal, weaving a sweater for every good. In the lazy summer afternoon, drinking a glass of plum juice, turning a few pages of picture books. Or watching ants fight, listen to Chanerchangqu children. Day after day to repeat these simple days, is the happiness one can know. So I said, just a few kilometers can hear the voice, but do not die of old age is also in contact with. I waited a fool's generation, it seems it can not be a happy life are penetrated by. A thinking human beings, God laugh. Are not happy, mostly because they can not do not to think about life.
Joy is just appearance, life passing away, not just time. Fleeting, far more than is wasted. In the corridors of time, I slowly came to see the exhibition in a space-time. A yellow brittle small pieces of paper, an old photograph, a permeability of the veins bookmarks, the changes in time, to become debris.
Autumn has come, the leaves will fall, the flowers will die, sweetheart will grow old, beautiful things can not stop himself. Life is cruel, so that each person experiencing a continuous loss process. For this we are lost, helpless. Let Dust dust, earth return to the earth, so that love is not old, so happy memories of debris in the moment for eternity.
什么是幸福？我曾经很执著，想要留住的记忆，在时光的刻刀下，一点一点地抹平。不知道这是对时光的妥协，还是对自己的释放。生活，本就如此吧。浮士德终其一生，也只为寻找生命中值得停留的最美丽的事物。
幸福，也许就是安守当下的日子，细数光影的挪移。做好每一餐饭，织好每一件毛衣。在慵懒的夏日午后，喝一杯酸梅汁，翻几页绘本。或者看蚂蚁打架，听蝉儿唱曲儿。一天又一天地重复这些简单的日子，就是幸福吧。所以老子说，鸡犬之声相闻，而老死不相往来也。我等愚顽之辈，看来是无法参透这幸福的人生了。人类一思考，上帝就发笑。不幸福，大多是因为无法做到不去思考人生。
欢乐只是表象，生命中逝去的，不只是时光。流年，何止是虚度。我在时光的走廊，缓缓走过，看一场时空的展览。一页发黄变脆的小纸片，一张老照片，一片通透的叶脉书签，都在时光的变幻中，成了残骸。
秋天来了，叶子会落，花儿会凋零，心上人会老去，美丽的事物停不下来。人生很残酷，让每个人经历着不断失去的过程。而我们对于这种失去，无能为力。就让尘归尘，土归土，让爱人不老，让幸福的记忆碎片在刹那定格为永恒。