"As soon as the clouds passed, the big river at the foot of the mountain overflowed my eye sockets." - Fang Shier, "Under the Mountain"
Some pretentious writings from the past, properly collected and collected.
A private diary of the ancient Penguin Space, full of careless moaning and musings. But when I think about how much time has passed, I start to miss my painful and vivid adolescent self.
Why post it here? ! I probably hope that this piece of dusty self-talk can have a chance to be exposed in the sun, right? Orz
Remember without pain.
Post the previous ones first, and then write the current ones casually, pretending to be serious about sorting by time.
Intention: I and we live in life.
