The twilight burns when longing is whacked.

Going has become a goal and in itself has become a tradition.
Dusk across the ocean leaving the land,only to invite the night,silence crept in from the viewing window which made my eyes slightly open that afternoon,I myself began to organize activities for tomorrow,I thought to myself.
We miss calling fingertips with numbers for little girls who are just learning to count, everything slows down, time suddenly eats us up, suddenly everyone is grown up, and there are too many shoes for this pair of feet that's why I never step. miss is the map where I got lost.
Even from behind the twilight drifting into the dark night filled with twinkling stars, longing is still burning, there is no time limit.

Sometimes I just want to write down words,like the various dictions created at dusk,because I love to enjoy the sky lit up at night,like my soul has merged in the twilight.

photo by. @benk07