The Boy Who is Drifting Away

About This Novel

That voice kept ticking in my heart. No one came to wake it up, and it never answered. It just wants to come to this world, take a look, exist, burn, hot-blooded, lonely, just exist or just stand. Finally I want it to come, after the last ashes of passion are blown away by the wind, finally it is coming, staggering in small steps! ! ! A withered rose on the road of life is inserted into the wine bottle in the bar at midnight. Whether you appreciate it or not, see it or not, it is there, waiting for the wind to blow from the music of the bar singer and dry it up.

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