In midsummer when the sycamore leaves were rustling, the roar of the locomotive collided with the coldness. I thought it was just a passing incident. It wasn't until the daylight in the classroom flooded over the desks, and the banter in the back row broke the silence, that I was shocked to realize that fate had already quietly overlapped their paths. Those undercurrents hidden under the tit-for-tat confrontation will eventually turn into their own midsummer poems in this hot summer.
Intention: Study hard and make progress every day