Life is often a taste, a scenery to bring people into the years that have never been able to go back. If you smell the aroma of rape flowers, the warm and expanding breath penetrates into the pores, and the scene about spring floats

Life is often a taste, a scenery to bring people into the years that have never been able to go back. If you smell the fragrance of rape flowers, the warm and expanding breath penetrates into the pores, and the scene about spring appears in front of you, remembering that you once walked quickly through the field path with a large black umbrella, the rain was woven obliquely, the cooking smoke of the countryside was thick, and the parents were cooking on the fire... Years have passed, O my dear ones! Where are you? I want to go back to the poor but quiet life I once had.