I remember writing 550 words this time last year.

Do everything possible to get rid of my parents' hands and come to this street through mountains and rivers, which makes me dream.

Strange roads, strange railings, smiling faces of strangers, I wanted to find something new to contact, but the display was so unsatisfactory.

Walking aimlessly alone in the bustling streets, enduring the relentless heat. "When autumn comes, the weather will turn cold." It seems that this deceptive weather forecast has no effect in this town. God has no intention of giving summer a holiday. Although the days are short and the nights are long, the high temperature of 35 degrees Celsius is not blowing after all. It's especially sweet for girls to hide under the umbrella held up by their boyfriends. I met several children by chance, and their T-shirts were already wet, but they became an excuse that they were "all wet, so it doesn't matter to play for a while".

Looking at the hat tied on the bag, I suddenly feel really stupid, stupid, let ultraviolet rays erode, and look like "I'm not afraid of the sun".

There are many people in the street, not just many. I am amazed at the prosperity of this small town, but I am also puzzled by the effectiveness of the so-called family planning. Even in the hustle and bustle, there is no person or thing worth staying. If anything, it's that man. At first glance, it was so white that I mistook it for a sculpture. He didn't recover until he moved-oh, he's human, too.

The ornaments here are far less good than ours, and even the drinks have changed their taste.

I didn't go near the newsstand because I knew there was nothing I wanted. Even if there is, I don't know. I just don't think it's going to happen. No.

What's playing in the video store is that very, very old "At least you". I have a different idea every time I hear it. This time, I feel a little lonely.

Loneliness is also a manifestation of ability.

The unique ability of post-90 s.

Notes through the dazzling sunshine, flashing in the surrounding corners, accidentally pushed the door and walked into a room of 20 square meters, emitting the smell of tobacco, the bane left by the Opium War, which was very harmful. The hot air came to my face, but I ran out of the house covering my nose. Found it, came to the starting point.

Go back to the starting point and find yourself incompetent. For half a day, all I got was a small bottle of milky liquid and a dislocated melody.

Last summer, it was a little long.

That small street left me not only prosperity, but also loneliness and emptiness in my heart.

That paragraph, unforgettable memories.