Like a summer evening, a cream ice lolly that is about to melt, and a school uniform hanging on a basketball hoop by a boy crush on the court. Just the occasional encounter to say the last sentence can make you feel excited all day. There is a small cyan book in the corner of the schoolbag, which is filled with bits and pieces of mood and various symbols. I remember him wearing a color-striped T-shirt, I remember him playing basketball very well, I remember him being a sports committee member, I remember him being tone-deaf, and I remember his teeth when he laughed. I wanted to remind him that the bicycle was not locked, but I was worried about exposing my mind, so I walked around the door of the class. I remember the little sisters eating popsicles and changing their moods, crying and wiping tears when they got poor test scores.
When my heart was full of dust, a gust of breeze blew open the old music box, the country road sounded, and the way back appeared in front of me.
Following them all the way back to the green years, I was young sitting on the wall, shaking my feet, welcome back.
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