gardenia In the basket of an old farmer on the street, I saw small handfuls of flowers tied up with white cotton thread.The green leaves are tough and verdant, and the petals are white and fragrant, as rich as silk.The green buds are firm and full, and the aroma is poisonous and spicy.On sultry summer nights, gardenias bring memories of the south. Bring home a handful of blooming flowers.I don't know how to treat each other.Looking left and right, they are all happy, and they only use clean water to irrigate.I fell asleep with reluctance and forgot to take pictures of them with the camera.When I woke up the next morning, I found that all the flowers were dead.The more beautiful it is, the more bleak it is to die.Yellowing and withering, like waste paper.Not a day can be delayed.

Unwilling to be broken off the branch and lose his soul.Can't do gritty walking dead.I would rather self-destruct to describe it as hideous and be discarded by others. In this way, this short and hopeless beauty penetrates into the bone marrow and makes people nostalgic.Never linger. This white fragrant flower represents the beginning of summer.Like a woman's elusive personality, irreconcilable lingering determination. That's it.To be loved more than you can get.