發表文章

The Little Snail Beneath the Map

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The Little Snail Beneath the Map  In a world of tiny shells, they're born with a map in hand A guide to their journey, a life they command But one little snail, with a line so plain No beginning, no ending, just a whisper of rain   He crawls through the meadows, a world to explore His heart full of wonder, a thirst for so much more But the others laugh, they don't understand The beauty he sees, a world in his hand   He's a slow snail, a dreamer, a soul so free He follows his compass, a heart that won't be Bound by the rules, the whispers of fear He's carving his path, with a smile so clear   A gentle guitar melody, a soft, wistful sound The world around him, slowly unwound   He meets a girl, with a map so grand A million paths leading, a life in her hand But she's lost in the maze, of what's meant to be Until she sees him, his simple melody   He's a slow snail, a dreamer, a soul so free He follows his compass, a heart that won't be Bound by the rules

Short Story: A Young Tale (by Tonkabean)

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Short Story: A Young Tale (by Tonkabean ) (English Story Translate by AI) Bare-chested in a t-shirt and worn-out jeans, she ran carefree under the sunlight, her long hair dancing on her shoulders. There was a time when such unrestrained passion filled her, captured in a 16x20-inch photograph frame that held a picture of a fifteen-year-old girl. The photo hung in the center of the wall in this little grocery store, and anyone passing by could see the childhood picture of Xiao Bing. It was her grandfather's favorite photo. After her grandfather passed away, her father and younger brother took care of the store, and occasionally, Ah Bing would come by to tidy things up. Now twenty-nine years old, Xiao Bing looked at herself from fourteen years ago, traversing a kaleidoscope-like colorful world, carefree and joyful every day. Xiao Bing's profession was makeup, but she hardly ever put on makeup for herself. She believed that no matter what she put on her face, her appearance wouldn&

The Journey of Melody (Song for Prose)

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The Journey of Melody (Song for Prose) Life is a journey. Along the way, we encounter landscapes and people, witness beauty and sorrow, hear joy and grief, smell fragrance and stench, feel warmth and cold.   Life is a melody. The melody sometimes has waves, the lyrics sometimes have deep emotions. Countless notes and melodies, each with its own chapter, constantly drift in this world.   Life is a search. A search for our own goals and meaning, a search for the true meaning and value of life. This search makes us love life even more, cherish every moment.   I… https://youtu.be/MpQqziNOUNI Lyric: Sunrise paints the sky with hues of gold, A brand new day, a story to be told. Across the fields, a gentle breeze does blow, Whispering secrets, where the wildflowers grow. Each step I take, a rhythm in my heart, A symphony of life, a brand new start. Oh, the journey of melody, a song unsung, With every beat, a lesson to be learned. From laughter

Short Story: Neon Bird

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Short Story: Neon Bird Its silhouette flitted between the towering buildings. Time rushed by, the city's din seemingly endless. As the sun rose, people's footsteps began to bustle, and Feifei, too, sought her own rhythm amidst the throng. (Feifei), a small bird, wasn't a newcomer to Hong Kong. She loved its wetlands, grasslands, forests and coastal areas. Whenever she needed to escape the cold, she would think of Hong Kong. One morning, Feifei awoke on the balcony of a house, stretching her wings. She habitually hopped to the window ledge, her keen eyes searching for breakfast. Food wasn't hard to find in this city, almost everywhere. People discarded it as soon as it slightly discoloured. Restaurants and eateries constantly supplied food, with patrons often leaving uneaten portions behind. Yet, on one unfortunate occasion, while foraging, Feifei was struck down by a man with a thick, heavy stick. The blow caused her immense pain. After that, she

The Lost Melody

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  The Lost Melody ( Original Story by Tonkabean ) (Translate by AI) He sat quietly beneath the banyan tree, his gaze vacantly following the green leaves as they drifted down, his mind a blank canvas. Since the accident, he had lost her, and with her, his memories. He seemed to have forgotten her completely.   But the melody that kept recurring in his mind, (Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do...), was like a set of keys. Each time it sounded, fragments of memories surfaced. He remembered her smile under the banyan tree, the gentle way she stroked the bamboo branches, the warmth of the spring breeze as it passed by them.   (Do Do Do Do....) The melody grew clearer, the images more complete. He recalled their walks in the rain beneath the banyan tree, the leaves falling onto her hair, him gently brushing them away.   (May I spend my life with you, the flowers bloom fleetingly, spring has deepened). Her voice echoed in his ears, he remembered her promise, and the tears she had shed