Copywriting:
After this year, where will our love go? The elevation of the dandelion makes me as low as dust. Like seeds scattered by the wind, flying freely, buried deeply. The smell of tobacco lingers on the white walls, which penetrates the heart. Only now do I know that it was the burial of my heart that you planted in me. But I still stubbornly learned three ways to tie a tie, flew across the ocean, and crossed the jet lag, but you no longer need my stubbornness. So who am I studying for...
Click to enter
Intention: