I want an apple, this idea, jointing from the bone, flowering, full of fruit ears, spread and accumulated in the threshing floor of my body. However, there is a lemon sitting in front of me, and its golden color reveals dazzling and noisy. The concave and convex surface is like eyes, which send layers of eyes uneasily. I don't like it. It is so warm and rich, but not as rich and delicate as the apple in my heart, mixed with red and green, calm and safe.

Looking out of the window, the clouds are still light and the sun is ten miles away. Tired willows, curled up with leaves, drooped into the dust and failed to escape the fumigation of the hot sun. Once a swallow flew by, and its tail was too heavy to penetrate the grass. The fire broke out in July, and it really deserved its reputation. With summer fatigue, I stay away from the heat outside the window, hide in the corner, and complain angrily about lemons. Although such emotions are not helpful to inner desires, they are also a kind of liberation from desires.

I want an apple, not too demanding, just a lemon. Is it because I can't get what I want, or do I want what I can't get?

I have always liked Jiangnan. Only these two words can have infinite amorous feelings and charm. Not to mention those words that describe the gentleness and beauty of Jiangnan. I wish I could stand under the ancient eaves, listen to the sound of raindrops and play the sweet piano. Or, the sunny evening, walking in the sunset, with green eyes, silently counting the bits and pieces of the years. Even if I meet a moss, it is good to look at its short, wet and soft hair and touch its soft surface. And every time, the long winter in the north brings a cold rope to tie my thoughts back. Throw it in the silent barren hills and lonely open spaces and ignore it.

I suddenly remembered a creeper I saw the day before yesterday. Heart-shaped dark green leaves, layered on the wall, purple flowers with nascent rain, collided with the rising sun in Ran Ran, making the leaves blush. If my window is covered with green leaves and covered with soft vines. It's best to have an arched fence door, which can climb out or the line is crowded with creepers. I went in and out from the door, just like a fish swimming under a lotus leaf, turning the days into romantic ripples. Or, looking up, Parthenocissus tricuspidata's tentacles quickly stitched up some frustration and sadness. How nice!

After thinking about it, I sent a short message to my friend: "I want a villa with ivy in front."

My friend immediately replied, "Well, if only I could return to eighteen!" " "That's all, I'm flying and speechless. People always want to have a lot and lose a lot. Those Cui Dai, rouge and peach blossoms. Go and never come back.

When I was a child, in the smoky season in early April, the grass put out a few new leaves in the drizzle. Well-known and unknown people are dressed in neat green and crowded on fields and buildings. I like planting grass best. Its faint fragrance permeates the nostrils and erodes the bones. I'm just looking for and picking pieces of grass. Sniff lightly and breathe in a kind of elegant fragrance that is not affectation and affectation. Feel the blue sky, under the idle clouds, a feeling of indifference. Then, carefully hold it in the palm of your hand, look at the corn in the field all the way, grow a faint red beard, and talk about a love affair with semi-green sorghum in the wind. There are also small waterfowl in the puddle, standing by the water and enjoying themselves. Occasionally, dogs bark, which is stupid and breaks the peace of the country. I was angry for a while before I found a way home. There will always be children next door, staring at the grass in my hand with colorful eyes, as if I were holding a peerless treasure in my hand. I've been looking for it. It turns out that the fragrance of grass given to me by fate is so intoxicating.

Wake up from the memory, the mood is ten miles of spring breeze, bloom is brilliant.

Parthenocissus tricuspidata can't be planted all over the balcony, but it has been carefully raised for five years. Lush leaves, densely spread on the wall, drooping branches, as if from ancient times, are telling me the fate when moving. I like hanging orchids. They have no low buds, complicated flowers, withered branches and leaves. So, so light, long green, the best.

When I turned around, I met a lemon. It is like a woman, sitting virtuous and gentle. I will not be hated for imposing unnecessary guilt. Sunlight shines in and overlaps with bright yellow to form new light, which is soft and tough and hidden in silence.

I gently picked up lemon, some beautiful words about it, such as whitening, slimming, high vitamin content and so on. The northern geese have returned to the front. Around me, twittering. It awakened my misplaced mood, only looking at the distance and ignoring the beauty in my hands. In this way, I have a feeling that fate has given me a lemon. Although the apple still appears in the dream, it is more worth cherishing.

So, I sliced the lemon, put it in a glass, put rock sugar and add cold water. In an instant, a glass of lemonade floated out. Entrance, fresh and cool, moist and fragrant.

If fate only gives you a lemon, make a glass of lemonade.