When I was a child, I lived in a poor place in the valleys of Sichuan. In my memory, the small house made of dirt was the home of five of us. The bamboo forest in the backyard was the fun of my childhood.
The graves on the mountain behind the bamboo forest are filled with people I know or don't know, including the crazy woman who cries and scolds at the door of her house all day long, and my grandmother who loves me...
In the compound lived the beauty-loving red aunt, the infuriating little brother who gritted his teeth, and the pockmarked eldest brother...
Intention: recall