Spring with Dolls and Scarecrow

A borrowed fairy tale book built a three-color pavilion. Ten years later, the pavilion collapsed and he tasted the flavor of the season. The bucket under the old locust tree is still there. Those who keep dreams have never dreamed. The fragments of consciousness left poetry and distance, spread over fairy tales and Cthulhu, crossed all dimensions, and became anchors at the boundaries that humans can only imagine.