Part One: The back corner, about in the winter – but this time leave, is still around in the winter.Clean and no one leaves the ground, far and near desolate houses arranged in a horizontal, straight on both sides of the street.No beggars, no scavenger, not too many passers-by, not too loud noise. The engine is started echo in the alley quietly passed around, further away, then disappear.Sitting in the car ready to go, I looked sluggish twilight of the old house, think back to the time just to say goodbye with the old man, spit from his mouth vicissitudes of “treasure” How heavy is the word. Thinking, something important seems to fall on the house, so I get off quickly, walked quickly walked toward the alley, a turn, but saw the slightly bent figure.His head slightly Yang, eyes free and focused toward that wall scattering, seems to be firmly fixed on the bike across the wall, invisible car.Although facing the cold wind, but his eyes unblinking.Lips are tightly sipping, seems to be desperation and bitterness, but sometimes slightly higher.Look inside reveals, it has always been something people could not guess not read.I have never seen him so carefully, especially in the corner. I inadvertently move, so he found me.I am embarrassed went, I did not think the old man’s eyes seemed to gaze is something wrong too late to hide a child, suddenly tense face downcast.”you.Why not go?how?Oh.I, I was out to trash.You go, do not worry about my.”Having only to find themselves empty-handed, and accompanied by an awkward smile. My old man silently looked at one another in such a quiet alley, I was terribly upset, like a crumpled ball of paper.Suddenly, I was a big step forward, with a hug panic to stall for too long deposition own apologies and guilt.I whispered in his ear said the word “treasure” will be turned away.But also the ear to hear the wind whistling; just heard the old man murmured like a child.As for the so-called important things, just let it stay in the old house.Or, I think I found – on the corner in the alley.Part II: the corner, those hurt.Tell me: the cool water no tears, no more biting soul.Flame burning ice, cold invasion of the body into the room.Then there is no consolation sky, forget the old cry, blink of an eye, standing still in situ. Remember: sky, no tears, even if it is no longer clear that vein, the way of life has also trace the wind.Dust laid hold of their own destiny, clouds drifting vain to find a way.Spray splashes, as well as thoughts. Flip leaves, looking at the back of the veins, they would understand: once had, the flame had been a collision with a Frost.As a result, blurring the past, no longer remember those memories, those silly, there are those pain.Sauna net sky gradually gives me the strength to cry and confusion.Corner, still is so warm.Looking back, or as the posterior and anterior.Shuitianyise, I discerned the Way? Actors ruthless, but then their stage tears. Flower and no tears, but then the earth is full of love. Brush the moment, the idea was fixed in a moment. Past in the past, those silly, those words, but also to stay in the past. Interwoven with memories of a moment that, remember, is the number of years ago, that was Snow.Pure white, filled with memories. At that time, there will always be a little different color lights between heaven and earth.Foot, without touching moment.The sky is no longer blue. She told me that youth is not blinded by dust, there is no bitter taste.In the face of the youth, gradually become indifferent, she learned to conceal his deeds.Bohemian, but it is silent. In the last fleeting look at, those familiar scene, then listen, those who flow through laughter. Youth character without words. The subtle taste of tea, draw round moon.That raging gentle, the wind is too long; it’s like a wave of violent, long forgotten in their hearts. Perhaps the sun was too tired, so that, after the snow, laid hold a trace of warmth.Perhaps, is the heart too tired, finally, unable to escape the cold of winter. Eventually one day in the future, will be marching Rainbow clouds from the wind.That frozen heart, there will be a hint of the rift.Not heal. I can not help but think of that innocent young.At that time, naive flooded atrium.Fleeting, who will pay for it? Those commitments, anxiety.Those stupid, do not believe. Superficially like memories. Miss the end of a long lane.He leaves the road, lingering endlessly tease, each, filled with tears away clouds. Fear, in a corner, quietly leave the figure to see.More afraid, in between looking back, and instantly forget those tender.