
About This Novel
There was a large field of roses planted outside his window, and every evening he would sit in front of the window and think about her. The setting sun fell on the white paper on the table, and she said: "My roses are dead." He raised his glasses and stared at the roses, "Rose grew out of the cracks."
What Readers Think
Rating
Good0%Neutral0%Bad0%
Community(0)
Rating
Good0%Neutral0%Bad0%
Community(0)







