Put pen to paper. The story begins to spread like a vine wrapping around a tree branch. Everything is shaking in my mind, and the memory will always go away. Outside the window, the wind blew away the large raindrops. The raindrops were like children who couldn't find their way, and they beat the anti-theft net with a tinkling sound. I looked out the window and couldn't help but sneeze. My eyes felt heavy and tired, and then everything began to drift away.
In the distance, the fragrance of the distant mandala is so fragrant that it enchants everyone's eyes.
In the season of brilliant summer flowers, youth desperately fights against time.
However, he lost miserably.
There are always some stories that are abrupt, and there are always some stories that are bleak.
Closing my eyes, I see. Priest's funeral. Bury. Tragic.