There is a person

In the 1990 s, I met someone. At that time, I remembered that the village beside the school was playing “women’s Einsatzgruppen”. There was a drizzle in the sky, and there was no one in the dark woods nearby. On the flashing white curtain, the fierce war is going on, with simple eyes, enjoying it with relish. And my heart, all in that person, met that person for the first time, in an afternoon. When I was in high school, I was relaxed and free. There were a lot of friends, sisters, brothers and sisters living a happy life with me. Whenever the sky is high and the clouds are light, and whenever the Wizard of Oz, we will go to the woods of the small village near the school, lying on the grass, blowing harmonica and talking about idle articles. What kind of time is it? It will never be forgotten. On a clear afternoon, I sat alone in the woods and looked at the distant mountains in a daze. Unexpectedly, a man appeared on the ridge not far away. The man was like a white rabbit, jumping along the ridge, stopping and walking. Pink flowers accompanied her, and bright green rice seedling stayed with her. There are many moments in the world, and many moments pass quietly in the long river of time. However, that moment was engraved in my mind from then on: blue sky, white clouds, Ridge, pink flowers, the bright green rice seedling, there is also a stop-and-go white rabbit, which is the man I met in the 1990 s. I hate the 15th full moon most in this life. In the autumn of that year, the autumn was cool and cool, the maple leaves were red, the oranges were hanging on the branches, and the birds were flying in the wind. It is the Mid-Autumn Festival with a bright moon in the sky. For the first time, I walked on the gravel road side by side with that man, walking beside the cotton Ridge, and the bright moonlight shone on that man’s clothes, the ornaments on that person’s clothes shine pure and beautiful under the bright moonlight, and the endless telling can only be buried deep in my heart like a yellow old book, helpless. Can love last forever? I often Touch My Paper Heart and ask myself. There was a man who was there, and I knew she was there.

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