Youth is scattered everywhere.

The half-written story will eventually be written by people. The one that sang half of the song will eventually be sung by people.

--Inscription.

Quietly flowing years, engulfed me eighteen late summer and autumn.

Standing on the branch of youth, I looked up at the red dust in the south. Jinger Gao complained to me: "There is a lot of traffic, people, horses, whistle, and the constant city are lending us time." And those of us who come from the north do not belong to this red dust.

The weather in the south is not due to the changes in the four seasons, but what is the sudden weather. The weather in December does not say that the university is fluttering, but at least it should be chilly. I? It is a child of the North Lai. The warmth of the south, warmth makes me not at ease. I have been used to the changes of the four seasons in the spring of the 18th spring and autumn. I am afraid, I am afraid that in this red dust, I will forget the feeling of the north. I am afraid, afraid of the sun in the south, I will forget the cold wind in the north, or the heavy snow. So, I tried hard to interpret the memory, all the way to the north.

time. space. white. black. They are all fixed in memory. The playground in the school, the zebra under the eyelashes, and the descendants have already stepped on the trail. Is it the fate of fate or the pain of reincarnation, and finally let us be stepped on the soles of the feet?

Migratory birds flew gently from the head, no one will find them coming. Left a footprint. Once the footprints, only the protagonist will remember it occasionally. The lost year flower bloomed in the northern desert, but it was ridiculous in the spring and summer of the reincarnation. I don't think anyone wants to remember the youth of others?

Crazy want to stand up from the new, and print the footprints that I buried at that time, covering the memory of others. But now? I have already printed footprints in the southern city. And I only have one pair of feet. I will definitely lose the opportunity to print the footprints, because I am no longer in that zebra, nor in the campus, the classroom, the desk. Now, I can't go back to the children, I can't afford to go back because time has already drowned my youth. The lost years, I can't catch its tail, and I can only watch it engulf the rainy season in the passing years.

The spring flowers bloomed for a season, the summer rain fell for a season, the autumn leaves floated for a season, and the winter colds also came for a season. It is also a process of reincarnation. Spring blossoms. One season and one season as scheduled. There has never been a late letter from Shanshan. The only one this season is the season. Never return to the lost season.

When history never stops, we are afraid that the wound will be infected, so we put on a layer of protective clothing. Even the smile has become a protective color. Maybe, it’s really the timing of time, so we don’t have time to imagine how beautiful the flower meeting is, how romantic the fairy tale will be, and the other side of the fairy tale. We can only write the story halfway, the song about us. The end is destined to be sung by future generations.

day. Still as always, covering the world, flowers or the face that will bloom with the seasons. Throughout the year, he will never be late for his appointment, the only change:

My eighteen spring blossoms. The youth of the late summer and autumn is always engulfed in the flow of the year.

Third day: Yu Lin