Through the window, you can see from afar, it is a mountain, it is a mountain, it has always been a mountain. What was imprisoned in my mind was that these mountains were endless, like children holding hands and enclosing my life in a circle.

Always look at the hillside. The sun is blessed by the pale yellow and tender green side, and the lost side is the cold and proud trees.

When the fog lifts, a white dress is put on halfway up the mountain, and the hazy summit reveals a rare shy side.

Sometimes I wonder how these mountains are not very tall and how they grew up to be like this. Under the erosion of the long river of time and space, is it high enough to withstand the wind and rain?

And then one day, take off that tough hat, and start protecting each other with the rest of it? At this time, I can always feel my own insignificance.

They watch over each other, and I live under their watch. I love the smallness.

"Draw a Picture" Chapter 3 Three: I think, the mountain is the guardian saint It's hitting the hand, please wait a moment,

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