Misplaced time and space
A person's handwritten memoirs
The gaze that hugged your back countless times
Side by side under the street lights, the deafening heartbeats
Atheists become pious for a better vision
Those things that can't go back, I call them forever
I don't think there is a specific description of what youth is like. It can be the chirping of cicadas in the midsummer, a teenager running and sweating, or a startling glance as you pass by in the corridor. I wrote the word youth on the paper, but then opened the classmate book full of memories. The memories remain unchanged despite the alternation of time. The wind blew past my ears, and I seemed to hear the bustling noise outside the window. It was probably because the ink had faded a little, and I had forgotten a little about how bohemian I once was. How can there be a second time for the passionate and grand youth, so I wrote about the youth that passed by in a hurry.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
