Early in the morning, open your eyes. The world outside was thundering, just as it was blooming outside my window. Accompanied by the patter of rain, the long-lost and long-lost feeling is good.. Is it Xiamen that hasn’t rained for too long, or did my mood happen to miss when it rained? I always don’t like rain very much.. In Xiamen, when it started to rain in spring, the floors, walls and hearth were sticky, so even the head and heart were sticky.. Lose the patience to think and do anything with the whole person’s emotions. This morning is different. Lying on the bed, listening to the spring thunder bursts, everything in heaven and earth is silent. In fact, there is also a clear and crisp call from the birds, which goes straight into people’s hearts, gently and coolly, like rain falling on people’s hearts, making them feel as cool and comfortable as a meal.. I don’t know why, villages can bring me special feelings. A dog’s bark, a path, a thunder, several dilapidated houses and even familiar faces carrying hoes on the road always properly arouse my keen nerves. I think I have a very special reaction to nature. Maybe I was a grass growing in a small village the first time, and once existed in this world as the youngest form of life. I felt the sun and sunshine of nature with the purest body.. I am not big, because my life is a small grass, not a towering tree, but because of my low height, my eyes are closest to the earth and see the most authentic existence. Then one day, a cart carrying cow dung came bumping and bumping. One of the wheels pressed against me and my body was broken.. When I said goodbye to this land, I smiled calmly. This is the most natural fate as a grass plant. If you come here once, you will not regret it. It was nearly half the afternoon, but the room was much darker. Thunder was beat more frequently than before, rumbling makes people worry about whether the sky is cracked or not.. I still lie on the bed and refuse to move my body. It must be a landscape painting of a ruined village in the south of the Yangtze River.. Outside my window are a few dilapidated old houses, which no longer hold people. On the 2nd and 16th of the 12th, women often carry baskets and go in with gold foil to say goodbye.. The roof is full of tiles with black moss, and the wind and rain also make the tiles not so neat and orderly and stagger one by one.. I was sleeping that night when a typhoon hit a roof beam. I was woken up by the sound of collapse. At that time, I was not disturbed. This is the fate of a house, right. Abandoned by others, baptized by wind and rain. I love birds more than flowers. Birds, like me, are nostalgic. They are not willing to get close to new houses or tall and inflexible buildings. Their favorite is the shabby tiled house with graceful eaves and strewn roofs. They must be very comfortable when walking.. I’m sure I’m not talking nonsense. I often see them twittering on the roof, little wings fluttering about and flying back and forth from one tile to another. I don’t know how happy and comfortable it is.. I remember one morning not long ago, a thumping sound woke up my ears and something was hitting my window.. In a short time, I was surprised to find that a bird poked out a thick curtain and a small head was cooing, and then I found another head poking out.. Aha. Two birds broke into my world. In addition to the surprise, I was puzzled. The doors and windows of the room were closed. Where did these two cute little things get into my world? I lay quietly, inspecting the room, and found that the round air-conditioning hole on the wall was suddenly enlightened in my heart.. Good thing, you are so good at it! That morning, I was so quiet lying on the bed, not willing to turn over and make a noise that disturbed their two small hearts belonging to nature.. They twitter and talk happily. I think I understand them. They say they want to have a home here.. In fact, my heart is a little annoyed. Although I love them, they can’t understand my mind. As soon as I get close, they can’t dodge and leap into the sky outside, and don’t want to give me a chance to speak close to them.. Birds are afraid of people after all.. Even I am no exception. The thunder outside the window has stopped and the rain seems to have stopped. On the high roof, the ticking of the earth, which drips only a few seconds apart, also gradually dissipates and permeates the boundless heaven and earth.. It’s time to fold up your ears and watch carefully. The ups and downs of the Ming Dynasty, the flowers blooming and losing are just mine. There have always been many involuntary things. People yearn for freedom because most people are not free.. I think freedom does not need rules. My freedom is concrete and changeable. I hope I can move with my heart. My freedom is to eat when I am hungry and not eat when I am full. This is the simplest freedom.. Freedom is optional and breaks all annoying rules. Freedom is not sleeping when you want to sleep, but not sleeping when you don’t want to sleep. Freedom is not a job you like, but a cool heart when you don’t have a job. The freedom I want is that if I don’t say these words in this way, you will understand them. Freedom is scattered all over the place at will. Heaven, earth and all things, travel – stained. My heart is just like a dust, full of freedom. Freedom is not to have time and place when you want to write, but to stop your pen at will when you don’t want to write.