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Chapter 2 The canoe is still there, so am I, but what about you?

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    ?

    ¡ª¡ªThe spring rain in my youth is just a woodblock print. Apart from gray and black, the most eye-catching thing is the small green leaves that have just bloomed in spring.  They are like pearls and emeralds, illuminating my restless heart.

    The rainy season is the most lonely time.  Loneliness makes me often feel that I am like a small boat, a small boat wandering aimlessly on the vast and boundless sea, without seeing the sky, the other shore, hope, or support.  Panicked and anxious, looking left and right, hopeless and hopelessly tired.

    Several times, I mistook the blood-stained frost cloud for a trestle bridge, and the joy was shattered as the cloud dispersed.  A few times, I mistook the rainy clouds in the sky for a dense forest, imagining that a bird would fly out of the dense forest with an arrow, and go to the free sky, singing my dreams and joys.

    But loneliness often reminds me of an old man.  His white hair was mixed with some black hair, and even his beard was gray with black and white mixed.  A felt hat, a penny, a raft, a small boat, a pipe, a thatched cottage, and a flock of ducks and geese. Such a simple sketch describes all his personal wealth.

    ? On rainy days, the rain shattered the surface of the lake. Frogs came out of the lotus and stepped on the lotus leaves into the water. I wanted to fly into the air and look down at the fish jumping out with their mouths open to breathe.

    That man, the man on the canoe, you also called him Grandpa.

    Grandpa is still there, the canoe is still there, and I am too, but what about you?  Where is it now?

    I fly, fly, fly to every corner of the world looking for you.  I couldn't find you, so I sat on the ruined city wall and sobbed, I sat beside the old chimney and lost my mind, I hid in the abandoned carriage, I picked up the broken hearts one by one, stringed them together with tears, and barely sewed them up.

    Yulu was originally shattered, and was born with a shattered body, but she wanted to unite into a thread to come to the world, and eventually she had to be smashed to pieces on the ground.  The joke of fate is to get people's hearts drunk and break them again.  Seriously, people are tools for God to vent his anger. If you are good, you can stand the beating and the teasing!  Enough of being tricked, God is in a better mood, maybe it will give you luck, it's unknown.

    It rained several times in a row, and after that, the sky always had a sad face.  Even on cloudy days, there was a sudden gust of wind, which was cool and clean.  I stood at the door and watched the weather.

    The wind, one after another is tighter than another.  The dark gray sky finally pierced thousands of white rays of light.  When it fell to the ground, it ignited like a hanging firecracker, and there was a loud "crack".  The mist has also risen.

    Occasionally, a few strands of rain were intercepted by the green leaves, and then they were quickly grouped into crystal clear pearls. They played and rolled a few times, but were thrown out of the fresh and tender leaf fans.  Xiaoshu seemed to have joked enough, he laughed, and the leaves all over his body trembled.  More drops of water flew down like shooting stars, and together with the rain curtain in front of the eaves, they fell on the steps, dug deep into the old stone masonry, and dug out a neat row of small nests, each like a small nest.  The girl dimpled when she laughed.

    The spring rain is silky, and it is endless.  My thoughts of you are like this rain, damp and desolate.  The temperature dropped sharply, and I put on a windbreaker over the thin coat I had finally put on.

    I walked to the door and looked up at the sky. The sky was very evenly overcast and drowsy. The mountains in the distance were covered with a sea of ??fog, and there was a very clear line where the ridge and the sky bordered.  The line bends all the way, but it disappears halfway, covered by fog.

    There is a darker patch in the fog, which seems to be a mountain farther away, completely covered by fog.  How nice it would be if someone was covered by something so that no one could see him.  He can skip going to school and go to a place where no one knows how to suffer. He can lick his wounds well.

    The rainy season is the most lonely time.  Loneliness makes me often feel that I am like a small boat, a small boat wandering aimlessly on the vast and boundless sea, without seeing the sky, the other shore, hope, or support.

    How are you?  I don't know how you are now.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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