年轻的我们,胸腔中流淌着激昂的热血。怀揣着那一份令人动容的执着。不为别的,只为那心中熊熊燃烧的梦,属于我们自己的梦。岁月匆匆,红了谁的樱桃?绿了谁的芭蕉?我们在岁月的纹理中停留、行走。夜空中星星点点,斑驳的树影在墙上摇曳,渲染着静谧的夜,浮动着淡雅的丁香香气。一阵风轻轻掠过,从我鼻尖飘过,溜走。夜已深,人微凉,我仍在朦胧的灯光下编织着我的梦。累时,就冲一包咖啡。看看那些被我密密麻麻列在笔记本中的励志名言,期盼着我自己的辛苦拼 We are young, passionate blood flowing in the chest. Carry that a moving perseverance. Not for anything else, only for the burning dream in my heart, belongs to our own dreams. Years of hurried, red who cherry? Green who banana? We stay in the texture of the years, walking. Stars in the sky a little bit, mottled shadows on the wall swaying, rendering a quiet night, floating elegant lilac aroma. A gust of wind passes gently, drifting from my nose, slip away. The night was dark, the people were cool, and I still weaved my dreams in dim light. Tired, it punched a bag of coffee. Look at those who are densely listed in my notebook inspiring saying, looking forward to my own hard work