Fayhath Dyagran
Bio
I've been gambling on when you will come to me. Betting on the weight of my heart in your heart, betting that I will not be able to resist going to you
Stories (3)
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Nostalgia for campus days
Nostalgia is a deep feeling. Nostalgia for loved ones, nostalgia for the campus, nostalgia, etc. are all deep feelings. The first time I went to work, I passed by a school and heard the sound of a long-lost school ballad. Suddenly, I found that until now, I still like campus ballads, that simple, refreshing taste, I miss the college days, the sweet lazy life. The fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a lot of money to spend on their own, so you can skip classes and go shopping.
By Fayhath Dyagran3 years ago in Fiction
Quiet life
Yesterday and a few college classmates small gathering, watching the scenery of the students exchange glasses, I still like the university as quietly sitting in their corner. The difference is that my face has more calm and relaxed, smiling and feeling their pleasure, feeling the deep love of fellow students. I think I will always belong to the quiet people sitting in the corner, and will never be the focus and the main character. But after so many years of baptism, my heart more calms, I smile at my son and classmates' children playing together, and faint happiness lingers in my heart.
By Fayhath Dyagran3 years ago in Confessions
The Rush of Years
The years are hurrying. It seems as if yesterday was a spring flowering place, but now is a cold lock in Jiangzhou. At night, facing the cold wind, strolling on the shaded path of Riverside Park, looking at the cold moon hanging high, the shadows of the trees, there is a "moonset cries frosty sky, the river maple fishing fire on the sad sleep" scene. Under the hazy street lamp, a poplar tree withered leaves falling, under the tree is already golden, suspected of full of gold, only a maple tree in the cold wind shaking red maple leaves, particularly eye-catching. The wind blew, there are still people on the river, despite the cold, fishing alone, the heart of admiration, really fishing alone cold river snow ah! It is a sorrow that the dream of a pillow of river wind is not complete.
By Fayhath Dyagran3 years ago in Fiction
