
Eight Acres
by I Am A Human Cold Painting Screen
About This Novel
I have always been thinking about an old world and the people in it. I miss that old era, and I also hate that old era. Here is a rural world far away from the city, far away from modernity, and even far away from civilization. It may be the world you have experienced: muddy dirt roads, red walls made of bricks and tiles, withered branches all over the mountains and plains, fields full of crops, old and confused old people, young and shrewd women, children rolling on the ground and playing in the mud... Everything has existed, but it will be dissolved by time, or has been dissolved by time. Countless lives lived in that era and in that place, but they will eventually disappear without a trace. The tombstones will eventually be buried in the loess, but if you are lucky, these words that appear in your hands at this moment can last forever. Perhaps they can live on their behalf and say something for all the lives that have been submerged by time: I have been here before.
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