When I was in school, I brushed the movie n times, and after more than ten years, I came across this book in the bookstore and read it in an hour and a half. I can't help but sigh that books are such a wonderful thing. One by one, the words without sound and no power can peel off a me who has been wrapped in chai rice oil and salt for more than ten years, and quickly bring back to the era of emotional overflow of the wind and snow.
Putting down the school books and walking out of the bookstore, people are still withdrawn. Looking at the little guy who was jumping around him, he was suddenly pulled back to the present. Today, more than ten years later, I have a new understanding of this story, not my first love, not missing, not the speed of cherry blossoms, nor the speed of two hearts. As a mom I actually thought about the healing of childhood. How can my child have a stable and lively heart. How can he learn to have it calmly and lose it freely.
A mother's perspective is indeed very melancholy [cover your face] [cover your face]