The circle name is Aning.
Daily updates are not guaranteed.
Write stories randomly.
The memory is covered with dust. I say it is the regret planted in youth.
Fortunately, the longing is silent, but unfortunately the longing is silent.
The green tiles often recall the rain of the past, and the red umbrellas are deep in the alleys without any old friends.
*A collection of essays, updated from time to time.
Purpose: life