When basking in the sunlight

 In the afternoon, the sunlight shifts, illuminating a cluster of pale yellow flowers with a soft glow. Their delicate color is especially fitting in the warmth of spring.

On the balcony, freshly washed clothes hang, the scent of jasmine from laundry detergent mingling with the aroma of sunshine. This evokes the particularly enduring memory of Grand Canal soap, adding a touch of nostalgia to my heart. It's like a diary of time, that fragrance a bookmark, pausing on the page I want to read.

Teresa Teng's "The Winding Little River..." plays in my ears. While wiping the window, I sway to the song, almost dancing. Does doing housework become more elegant and joyful?

Sitting quietly at the coffee table by the window, I can see the shadows of flowers, the latticework, and books, all silently waiting and slowly shifting in the sunlight. In that warm moment, a tremor of electricity washes over me. I realize how easy it is to be moved!

I could have had so much time to observe, to contemplate, to indulge! What a blissful and desirable thing it is that it could so easily fall upon my head! I'm so excited I just want to shout it out, letting the distant echoes resonate with all my excitement. I took a small sip of Pu'er tea, its rich flavor of time and space, fermenting for who knows how long in the breath of heaven and earth, and I, once again, possess such a treasure.

Every movement is a dance, surely driven by my emotions, strolling in joy amidst the感动 of time. (Article reading website: www.sanwen.net)

My hair is disheveled, the breeze blowing through it, actually dancing! Gently combing it with my fingertips, yet longing wells up in my heart.

I remember the child's song: You are my eyes... When you miss someone, you know it's truly heart-wrenching. I've long admired the authors of popular songs; how can the most ordinary words so resonate with my heart, expressing what I want to say? My dear child, you help me see the world, you travel the world for me, I would rather keep this longing alone, my eyes always filled with a hazy yearning.

The deep, soft melody seemed to linger. I could hear a tear welling up, a delicate, slow, fragmented sound, like the exquisite cracking of ancient porcelain over time. Though only I could hear it, time itself could hear it—a fleeting call in the heart when waking from a dream in the darkness. A

smile still shone in my eyes, visible to everyone else. Longing is enjoyment and happiness!

For no apparent reason, in moments of yearning, a fleeting entanglement was led by those lyrics to a vast ocean, where I loudly called out to the longing in my heart, "Bless me!"—and it began!

I couldn't help but nag, over and over again, and the child listened patiently, responding. My heart was instantly comforted.

Like the petals of the hyacinths I grow at home, fragmented, small, and scattered, yet always fragrant, subtly sweet. Constantly scattering, drifting, that fragrance is also the entanglement in my eyes, the tenderness in my heart.

The old elm tree outside the window has sprouted tender buds, as have the willows. I don't know when, but the spring breeze has painted them all.

I remember in early spring, when the earth was still shrouded in the majesty of winter, I was anxious, wondering when I would finally bask in the tenderness and warmth of the spring breeze. I rubbed my eyes again; the magnolias already had buds, the forsythia was turning a pale yellow, the cherry blossoms were a delicate pink, and a layer of emerald green stretched across the garden ground—truly, "like a spring breeze overnight!" It had turned green so quickly… My gaze couldn't follow the green's shadow, yet the garden overflowed with spring colors.

Repeated cold snaps ultimately couldn't stop the footsteps of spring. My heart is joyful!

The branches of this elm tree are right next to my dining table, outside the window.

When I eat, I enjoy my food while appreciating its four seasonal changes.

In early summer, the elm seeds are abundant and plentiful, heavy with fruit, making the treetops nod frequently. With the window open, it seems they are about to scatter directly onto the dining table and into my bowl. Those round, green leaves shook off all worries, busy with pure bliss. It felt as if I were stunned by such a beautiful scene to accompany my meal.

I remembered as a child, climbing trees to pick elm seeds, mixing them with flour, steaming them, sprinkling them with minced garlic and vinegar, and enjoying them happily under the shade of a tree.

Now, such a meal is a luxury.

But I can bask in this luxury, reminiscing about happy times—that's enough!

I miss my good friend, a dear confidante far away.

I couldn't restrain my thoughts. Quietly enjoying the shadows cast by the sun through the window, observing the changing time, I know how time passes second by second. An elegant, intellectual friend always flashes through my memory.

Yesterday, a scene from a TV series: recalling loved ones in black and white, only the protagonist in the memory is in color.

That's how it is in my mind.

Her phone always rings when I miss her, always with hurried words: Why haven't you called me in so long? Are you alright?

I've always wondered, could telepathy really exist?

A cup of tea gleams in the sunlight, its shadow swaying gently, leaves settling quietly at the bottom, a pale green, like the luster of a gemstone.

As bland as water, as tender as tea, there's a sense of anticipation, appreciation, and longing amidst the turmoil.

I sent a text: Why haven't you called me in so long? Are you alright?

I smiled silently to myself...

Stretching my arms, straightening my back. I let out a

long sigh. What more could I ask for in life?!