I probably wrote some essays in the style of old things in the south of the city, to commemorate the time I had in that remote little village since I was born. Life is tranquil, bitter, and romantic. I am sowing some immature seeds here. I wonder if it will turn into a sea of towering trees in a certain year and month. Love and persevere, warmth and strength. I think there will be a more beautiful sun tomorrow.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
