The fragmented light and shadow under the ivy trellis, the carbon dioxide-filled summer, the steaming figures on the playground, the incandescent lights in the classroom cut into pieces by the fan, silently stepped on the schoolbag, picked up a large basket of review materials next to the desk, and glanced up at the countdown to the end.
Some fragmentary fragments, mixed with some scattered thoughts, the main line is daily life, more like a memoir than a novel.
An autistic boy with a sharp tongue, a sunny girl, a cautious secret love, a timidity above AUO, a childish wish, and an ignorant yearning.
Life is never as exciting as a story, but the past you have been to and the complete self that you piece together and cut out are the most real things.
This is my first time writing, please take care of me.
Purpose: Reminiscing about the past and looking forward to the future