15.11.23 uncle chequer
Under the setting sun, only the back is left
How I want to accompany you, the crow sleeps on the old tree,
I want to listen to grandma bridge,
Think about it. There are a bunch of footprints on the beach,
No time to miss, no time to say goodbye.
In the month of April, I lost my home after I had been round, and I went back and left.
Temperature, however, is always sad when I miss it, and cold.
Soul monologue of leaving home
