When the warm light of early spring returns to the earth, the hope that has been hidden straightens up like a newly awakened bud. The snow gradually melted, revealing a brand new oasis.
The back of the little boy watching the fireworks on the swing, the back of the boy holding the drawing board, the back of the ice-cold boy who was about to buy peanuts for his granddaughter - the back of the white-clothed figure has disappeared at the end of the oasis without looking back...
On the vast grassland, you and I are lying on our backs side by side, holding a green apple in our hands.
The morning wind blows on the grassland, carrying the breath of grass and wilderness, blowing through the hair and brushing the cheeks. We shared the left and right headphones, and we sang together one youth symphony after another. In the field of vision, a goose flying alone occasionally broke into it, and then became alone occasionally, and then finally returned to the team, all the way south.
The horizon at the end of the grassland is where heaven and earth meet. We weave our dreams on every cloud. Even if it rains one day, it is just the arrival of our dreams.
If one day we grow up, then we must turn every if into a result.