The desk is a place full of creativity and inspiration, it carries countless ideas and pursuits. In this small space, time seems to slow down and thoughts run freely. Whenever I sit in front of my desk, the noise around me seems to have nothing to do with me, and I am far away from the world. I can always find inner peace here, focus on the words or brush in my hand, and immerse myself in my own world.

There might be a couple of fiction novels, a philosophy book, or that yellowed diary on your desk. Each book is a new journey that takes me through stories I have never experienced before. Even a simple handwritten note can evoke those precious memories in my mind. Every time a finger glided gently across the page, the desk seemed to tell what it had witnessed, and time froze here.

Accompanied by the desk, there is a warm lamp, soft light such as mother's arms, give me courage and warmth. Even in the middle of the night, no matter how violent the wind and rain outside, the desk is like a lighthouse, guiding me forward. My thinking was released at this moment, and all the troubles and perplexities were turned into words, flowing on the paper, and becoming traceable marks.

The cleanliness of the desk is always closely related to my inner state. Sometimes, the desk will be full of books, stationery, chaos, as if reflecting my confusion at the moment. And when it is organized in order, the anxiety of the mind will dissipate, as if everything is back to normal. Such a process seems not only to organize the material space, but also to self-reflect and adjust.

At the desk, I often think and create, express emotions and explore the unknown. Whether it is an in-depth analysis of an article, or a burst of inspiration, it has given me endless support. Every stroke is my dream and pursuit.