In the middle of the night, the little boy found his suitcase. He was in the alley on the rainy night. He didn't leave. The little girl ran over and took her suitcase. She hung her hat on the tricycle and they left together. I would like to accompany you, no reason.
Songs floated in the lotus pond, the old man who wrote the poem left the world, and the woman who bought flowers sprinkled white lotuses again in the market that the old man remembered. I can't be with you, horribly old, but I still love life, and I remember how beautiful you were.
I feel guilty, I am not qualified to sympathize with these people, because the people in this seemingly broken country have experienced more and know more than me.
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