I don't know when it began, home: this word has slowly become distant in my old sea, as if the home of my childhood was very lively. Because there is a family, and there are small friends to accompany. Yet so familiar...
10-26
![Novel: The beauty president sticks to him and says to him at 10 o'clock in the evening: I don't want to go home[fig]](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAP///wAAACwAAAAAAQABAAACAkQBADs=)
Depressed mournful, drizzle sprinkled, like your tears for many years have been flowing through your cheeks, listen to the cold rain, a call across the strait, go home, go home Mom, I don't want to go home every time...
10-27
