A boy sketches the story of his parents with his own brush.
Ever since my father was a sunny boy, he went to work full of energy every day.
To the camera to portray the mother working as a maid in a high society home.
Every day, my mother watched my father's little bicycle speeding by by the window.
When does love sprout.
One day my father knocked on the door of my mother's patrons, sent a bunch of flowers to my mother, introduced himself, and invited him to watch a movie.
Everything is natural and comforting.
Mother and father got married naturally.
They borrowed all their savings to buy a house.
At the beginning, from a bed, and later to my father, he personally made all kinds of furniture for the family.
The picture is warm and beautiful.
To have a baby, to give birth to a baby.
The love of parents is like a running account.
But it's always beating on my heart.
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