I hope my words can have a space to stretch quietly and freely.
This article will record the growth and transformation of that group of people in the form of an essay. I want people to know that in that small mountain village surrounded by mountains, there are seeds of hope. We laugh and we are sad; we are embarrassed but optimistic. Those high terraces and small basins in the mountains, mixed with the smell of mud and sweat, have become eternal marks.
Nowadays, we have all left our hometown and walked into the materialistic, brightly lit city and into the noisy crowd. But we still remember the eternal home deep in our hearts.