I don't know when I started to have such an impulse to slowly and lightly precipitate the thoughts and feelings in my heart into words. With my thoughts about the future, memories and the present, I avoided the scorching sun of midsummer and slept through the entire harsh winter's brewing, growth, and non-stop growth.
At that time, we still had a long love, walking hand in hand through the winding rain alley, picking an iris, not beautiful, not fresh, real growth, non-stop growth,
In those years of high fever, there is always a faint fragrance of flowers...