When the sun sets over the mountains and birds rush to fly to the tree branches, he will appear on that mountain road.
He didn't see me. As usual, he picked up a piece of grass and put it in his mouth, and started playing with the camera in his hand.
I put one end of the earphones into my ears, listened to the music with low sound quality, bit the penholder, and continued to observe him through the scattered shadows of the trees.
I saw him pointing the camera at the group of flying birds. The tight muscle lines on his arms were displayed on his wheat-colored skin, graceful and smooth.
I jumped down from the stone, put my hands on my forehead, and followed his back with my eyes
The sunset exploded behind him, like an undercooked sugar-coated egg
He turned around and pointed the viewfinder at me
I smiled
He saw me too
——
I started to lose sight of him
When the viewfinder is facing me, it's dirty and messy
I smiled
He finally can't see me
This is the story of a mute who ran into a hoe and a Steve who loved farming.
First person
Intention: youth