The Woman’s Rich Fragrance in My Memories

The mist began to disperse, and the sun penetrated the thick clouds, illuminating the courtyard with the magnificence of an oil painting. Countless slim silhouettes that had appeared in the dust of memory began to become clear.

I haven't been a child who likes to be close to people since I was a child. Adults are quite disgusted by the overly straightforward way of expressing myself in front of others. Even if they don't point it out directly, my sensitive self can still intuitively feel the emotional fluctuations conveyed in the air. So I began to learn to figure out other people's thoughts and behave in the way they think children are accustomed to, but with my own characteristics. Sometimes I am well-behaved and don't talk much, and sometimes I am stupid and crazy. . . Unexpectedly, I saw expressions of appreciation and fun in their eyes, but in my heart I laughed strangely at the simplicity of the adults. They pay attention to appearances and were fooled so easily, even my parents were no exception. This is a place for children. I observe the thoughts of adults, use superficial phenomena to confuse them, lower their defensiveness, and make them believe that I am just such a child and cannot become a great person. I have always been happy to deal with strangers in this way. For the people I like, I face them with my truest side, simple, a little silly and stubborn.