Walked Through

About This Novel

Poems are like red beans. Some fall into your fingers inadvertently, some require effort to pick up, and some just jump into your eyes, and it is difficult to distinguish them when a gust of wind passes by. As you collect more, you have higher requirements for color and texture, and the difficulty of picking naturally becomes greater. It takes a long, long time to get one that you are satisfied with. Needless to say, there is no need to explain the hard work, and only you know the joy.

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