She raised her head and smiled at him.
It was as if they had been together for ten years.
Always together, three people.
Like a pair of proud young parents, watching their own children play brilliantly.
Light, smell, touch. sound.
When he stood on the bustling street, his craving for sound reminded me of that perfumer. The same, sensitively captured, subtle. The difference is that what he is looking for is love, and what he is looking for is to fall into nothingness after all.
So, destined, he will be happy.
People who have love in their hearts, have faith, and don't give up, plus a little luck, will be happy.
It's nice to be happy. Happiness is the white moonlight, we are attracted by the same piece of music. I talk to you about myself, and you answer me, well, I'm...that's me.
It's nice to be happy. Happiness is under that tree, we play a tune together. The tacit understanding in blood, I tell you the right ones, you say goodbye, so naturally, in the crowd, turn back, turn back again.
It's nice to be happy. Happiness is that I miss you with my violin and you are thinking of me with your guitar. It's like we are always together.
Those who will be happy in the end are really, really good.
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