He had very short hair and deliberately kept his voice low when speaking.
On the tall buildings that are connected in a line, the movement of your hands in your pockets and your crotch, the sweat on the tail of your hair, the wanton roaring, the swinging of the defense and the attack, the deep-seated people evoke your thin mouth.
There is something to run out of the heart.
I have always described this feeling as subtle, too lazy to talk about childhood dreams.
In fact, what you and I have are just mediocre high schools, paralyzed by false appearances back and forth.
Fist, smoke, music, and friendship. What is the subtle relationship between them that I have never touched. It is classified as childish imagination, the bloody fist expands your chest, the thinking is magnified several times, and the gasping fight understand in your eyes.
Whose youth is not warm-blooded, but some fade away with time, and some are still deeply hidden in the heart even if they are gone.
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