Back to those times, I did not know what was in the sweet-scented osmanthus fragrance of the season. I had not tasted misery by train travel and had not flocked to the foot patch of hard earth only to discover, at the same time, in my legs that I should be learning to bear and learn to see the sky and grew up in the clouds. Imagine each piece, there is a breeze standing kite day, dreaming.
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