It's the plastic runway under the setting sun and the sweet chestnut-scented evening breeze that flows through the alleys.
It's the bustling bicycles and yellowing white sneakers.
It's the noodle shop with amethyst curtains and the little daisies that haven't woken up in the flower shop.
From the sun-drenched Populus euphratica forest to the stupid elm trees outside the window.
From the sea of oranges filling the sky with burning clouds, to the small puddle at the door.
From pinching elm money to freezing Korla pears.
Catkins flying all over the sky or heavy snow.
Chongqing's spicy hot pot, or mom's hand-made noodles.
Ice-cold beer or snoring soda...
I don't expect too much. Every Tuesday after school, let's go to the school gate to eat pancakes and fruit together.
This book is dedicated to ordinary young and frivolous people.
Finally: Art is an explosion! ! !
Idea: I'm tired of reading fast-food novels, so I want to read a slow-cooked novel.