In 1996, the northwest wind brought cool autumn weather, and the morning light in the small county town flooded through the low houses and new buildings. Carrying our own worries and confusions, we met each other in the aftertaste of the cicada chirping. It is the embarrassment of high-priced students, the freshness of young people, the secret hidden in silence, and the most precious companion in an ordinary period of time. The distant mountains are verdant and the years are long. The people we met when we were young and the paths we walked will eventually leave a gentle echo in time.
This is my short article, a memory, and a tribute to the lost youth of those born in the 70s and 80s!
Purpose: To engrave the scenes of youth in a small town in the northwest in the 1990s, and to describe a youthful growth path that is pure, warm and long through the daily fireworks of three people.