Love autism - and with the days of Prokofiev（三）

Mild breeze gently blowing, blowing past. Blow to the face just youth, I have no doubt that time, the vivid, if an action would simply reflect a lot of fun and deep color, although I always feel that in a bowl of red soup in walking. Do not know why always had that kind of illusion about my concept of the world suddenly reduced, it was so crowded, so wet, and often feel suffocated and flawless, flawless, is also a manifestation of anxiety. When Prokofiev third block in front of me, I'm not nervous. But also to ask questions, then the answer before he laughed. Breath, there are some subtle feelings float in the heart, I do not know, nor do they not clear what. Perhaps I began to dream of love in a moment. Fantasy love, how to listen to how these words are not reliable, real love need to reflect, to pay and have, but I can not, I can not, I refuse to pay and the like have.

I began to start non-stop fantasy, fantasy always fatal to those who crossed the face and Prokofiev constantly changing, this has been a mystery, no enigma. Moment he is affectionate, moment is fickle in; a while is fine moderate, while a ruthless; times, he looked like a stranger on the road pass, but sometimes unexpected strangers live in your impression that sometimes the impression that it had fixed over a number of re-imaging, can not exist as a face and image, it makes me sad and even fuzzy, messy too messy, and a time to flawless, dizziness and trance ... ... This habits, until today, there are still almost no stop-off, so I think I love experience, a lot comes from the imagination or even imaginary, to some extent, I also have a South-South as the defects, once formed inside of love The final image, I would cross the line of sight of all reality, I am doomed to live in reality, then the ideal height and depth on my way to keep close to my distance, like a very dark night bright the stars, you move it too fast, it still so far away from you. This is the reality and the ideal existence, but some good on the road, yes, in heaven.

: "You carry the shoulders of what?"

: "Of course, carry the Qiana, you see, in addition to money, I can carry anything."

: "I do not like money, you carry the money to do what is the use?"

: "... ... You like?"

: "One day, I'm going to plant trees far away."

: "Planting trees? Trees also need money? No money, how would there be bread, no bread, there would be no strength to plant trees? No effort to plant trees, Where the money came through?"

: "You are thoroughly realistic."

: "I use my real support for your ideals."

: "Do not need."

: "Needs."

: "Do not need."

: "Needs."

Occasionally, we went to the piano room to practice a number of tracks, as the school's activities to prepare accordingly. At that time, I used the piano to accompany him, he often pulled the former Soviet composer Prokofiev's "Cello Sonata," the third movement. I like the first movement and third movement, and he has been pulling these two movements, until later when I left there, but also begin to hear those voices, deep, deep Wan. I just refuse to return until many years later in the summer come again, because the former Soviet composer Prokofiev to write the theme music essays, again with the "Cello Sonata" meet the third movement, it was a moment, and I feel as if a century later, in those deep, deep Wan's voice tears, I think of it, many, all.