"But none of this matters anymore. We really can never go back."
"If you can go back, it doesn't matter if you can't, as long as you are well."
"Then do you think I'm ugly now?"
He shook his head, and two lines of tears flowed into the palm of my hand.
When I write this, I may have to stop writing, because my brain has begun to be unable to remember some things, and I start to fall asleep when I think about it. As for my mother, in order to prevent me from falling asleep now, she tells me about her past and encourages me to write her stories and the stories of people of that era, but I know that is no longer possible, because as she talks, I feel like I am on a train that is going to nowhere, and I feel tired after swaying.
This time before I fell asleep, I felt someone holding my hand and putting it against my ear and saying, "Xia Xiaotang can move his hands."
Then I saw Gao Lin, this time it was very clear, but he was crying, so I thought about hearing the old people in the village say that it is not a good thing to dream about the dead crying. Maybe someone is really going, and I think it may not be me...
Now I finally understand that what we like is what we will never get.
Conception: