This is an old trap. . . . . . Modified version has been sent
tentatively named
I swear, I will try my best to update it well. It would be even better if someone else sps it:)
I like to run to the beach alone, step on the broken sand after low tide with my bare feet. The wet sand comes out from between my toes, which is cool and slippery. Ye frowned and said that this was not good, as it would make me catch a cold. After saying that, he stretched out his hand to pull me and help me wash off the mud on my feet. Ye's hands were so cold that they were softer than the mud. I just thought about it and said so. Ye smiled and said, "Your feet are also very beautiful." After saying that, he lowered his head and concentrated on washing them.
In fact, Ye often said, "Let's go pick up shells. There are many beautiful shells on the beach." Ye always thought that I liked shells very much and would often give me various kinds of shells. Ye was right. I really like shells and like to pick them up in the sea breeze. Ye always thinks that the way I look at picking up shells is pretty and less evil. That's what Ye said. When I step on the sand, my face is full of evil. I don't know how Ye thinks that. All I know is that the sand comes out from between my toes. It's cool, slippery, and feels very comfortable and familiar. *************************************************************************
Memory is like water poured into the palm of your hand. No matter you spread it out or hold it tightly, the water will always flow cleanly from your fingers, drop by drop.