The hazy streetlights stretched his shadow into the silhouette of a grown man, as if the eleven-year age gap had blurred into a speck of dust where light and shadow met. Eleven spring, summer, autumn, and winter seasons were no more than eleven migrations by a flock of birds, eleven typhoons making landfall, and eleven birthday wishes.
Me me me me! I don't know what to say, Yuan is back (●—●)
Like it very much! Ahhhhh
The painting style is completely different...
The big writing is very surprising, I like it very much