At that time, we always wanted to hold the wind in our hands and let it take away the notes full of worries; we always wanted to tie a string to the clouds and let them float away slowly. We ran on the field ridge until the smoke curled up from the cooking pots and until the fireflies lit up the lamps among the grass blades.
And the stars are always there.
It witnesses us hiding our secrets in the singing of crickets and placing our courage in the whistling bamboo dragonflies. It smiles and inlays the insignificant joys and sorrows that have been forgotten by adults into the deep velvet curtain one by one, becoming eternity.
So later, whenever the wind blows and the clouds clear, we will always raise our heads subconsciously.
The evening breeze that blows in the face smells of earth and gardenia, which is the background of childhood. The starlight falling on our shoulders is still as clear and bright as it was at the beginning, like an unspoken agreement, reminding us that all truly precious things never truly pass away.
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Motto: Friendship is precious