Magical

Dance your hands to write beautiful rumors again. The magnificent words cannot withstand the heartless sighs. We are already old. Looking back, what kind of answer can we write? Dance our hands to wave symphonic poems. Madness is no longer self, where can it be itself? Maybe we are all old and can no longer make money, and the wind is far away This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.