He Is Outfield

In midsummer when he was seventeen years old, he stood unruly under the old locust tree with a fried dough stick in his mouth. Later, I met many people, who were gentle, considerate, and considerate, but always suddenly stopped at a certain moment - they were all very good, but they didn't pass through the boyish wind, and their heartbeats were messed up like crumpled draft paper when I saw them. It turned out to be amazing, but the rest can only be made do.