I haven't written anything for myself for a long time. In a twinkling of an eye, half a month has passed. In half a month's time, I was silent, feeling the powerless years.

Every morning, I feel the cold wind penetrating every inch of my skin, waiting for the warmth of the early sun in the piercing and trembling. In such days, in constant repetition, I am waiting for the end of the day.

Yesterday, I got paid. For me, it is a new computer, a bare metal 2.3kg Shenzhou. And two adapters. (Type C and VGA, VGA and HDMI, because I have a VGA display.)

Look at the days, half a month of silence, it seems that in memory, everything is like dust, in the days to come, memories can only choke my cough.

When I slept at night, I suddenly wanted to hear some hypnotic hints. The dormitory is not only for itself, so I bought a Bluetooth headset. After all, I don't want to be choked by the thread, nor look for two earphones everywhere the next day. After buying, I looked at the date and found that it was the middle of the month. I didn't know when it was due. Fortunately, the logistics of postal service is far better than the "Four Connections and One Arrival". Whether it is transit or other, at least in terms of receiving goods, it is easier.

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I wanted to write something, but after a long time, I looked at myself, dreamy Chen Feng, and life. It seemed that everything was not worth mentioning. It seemed that everything had a magic of silence, which made you get used to silence in the journey of life.

"I used to like writing, but I don't write anymore."

I often think of it, but I don't know why I gradually like and appreciate the silence. It seems that on the other side of the silence is the silence and solitude of the soul. In the silence and solitude, it gradually becomes silent.

There are many stories I want to write, but after reading them for a long time, I don't know what to write.

In the days that followed, he had no choice but to keep silent.