I walked back and forth around the house a few times, looked at myself in the mirror, widened my eyes and opened my mouth and made a few weird moves, and finally squatted in the bathroom.
I decided to go for a walk and slowly walked away alone with my head down.
There are only scattered figures on the road, mostly migrant workers and elderly people.
It had just rained, and the wind blew the clothes to both sides, stretching out the stiff neck.
There is always no smell of earth in the air, but the white dry grass is turning green as you step towards the lawn.
I remember the autumn when I was a child. Throwing a stone into the sorghum field would cause sparrows to fly out and then fall down again.
The swallow stood on the cable with its head tilted and its black tail raised.
I want to make up a story.
Blackbird house finch