Me and my prose（二）

Some of fate and a sense of Zen. I have always believed Rengeyouzhi, people have dreams. However, anyone who blogs or it can become a dream feel? As I left to write prose, like poetry, this is not diverted to transfer more than not interested in change in feelings, or even mention is the new choice, everything is self serve in the purely innocent in nature and in order to smooth original mind. Buddha told us in the distant era of "impermanence", "dharmas Empty," and we human beings always have the order often arrange for their own life goals, without which does not become human. Our pursuit is not a real vanity. Although the material things, acquisitiveness, lust, desire, and so were many redundant will bring many of their burden, but we always still have to pursue it persistent, stubborn not the heart to leave it. Perhaps it is because the intention of such an obsession, and I for a long time to write essays with their main focus, to put it nicely is a pursuit, to put an objective point of paranoia is a personality and interest on the preference.
I wrote a number of years, of course, wrote and published many essays, but I'm still me. Remember to its peak, the text was persuaded I abandoned politics, do not write, and then take the political path is very popular to the condition that I was completely mixed with a an official post, but I write prose is enjoyable, could not bear to abandon pen, still writing. Unlike literary fame and fortune from the close social activities, and it even allows you to make you lonely lonely. Gone on to a non-or the old, someone told me: "should Mituzhifan, the Offer to be a writer, what? Mention or prose writers?" Unfortunately, I sink deeper and deeper in prose, simply to go its own way, never tired of.
Blink of an eye, "middle age" and had, the confusion still a lot of things, sometimes Guyingzilian, would like to return to the past there was located a little comfort, so he continued to my prose. Eccentric nature of my character, because the rules of the world very lightly, so the community ignored me, the fate of mocking me, like the West Fuxi only push stones and pushed down again, down again and again, gradually, not to write prose other, only to find a way to a break up the monotony of children. Those models to the line of the road, friends, or picked up a fortune when, as I understand, pity pity to say that I: "With your condition as good, you really should not go that way ah!"