After the happy gathering, there is a small break, wandering along the south bank of the Yangtze River. The sunset has thinned out the moon in the sky, the ginkgo trees have turned yellow, and the trees have fallen into pieces. The wind chime in the corner of the corridor is still swallowed by itself, and the laughter of the year was blown. Bicycles are rusty on the Wutong Festival, and school uniforms are stacked empty, hiding thousands of knots. If you ask, what is missing in this heart? The window is half dim with rain.
Intention: You are my thoughts