Have you ever loved someone purely? It's the kind of love that can run out of the eyes at any time. It is a figure that can be accurately found in the crowd at any time, and then the whole body is uncontrollably stiff, like a machine in disrepair, making a small sound from the joints. After that, there was no movement.

That's what it looks like to be stunned.

It's this kind of self-righteous lifelong liking.

Have you ever had such a love?

Far away, yet very close to reality.

In the midsummer when memories are circling, in the air full of the smell of camphor, in the figure of walking together in the afterglow of every sunset.

It seems that there are countless butterflies flying in front of you, but there will be no lonely, leaving behind the illusion of a place.

As far as the eye can see, what is it?

The long time is like a long, old tree, which rises with the sun every day, and it does not care about the branches that deviate from the direction, and it does not care about the corners that are forever away from the sun, just as the annual rings only carve circles and circles on the main trunk.

The side details have long been taken care of.

It's just that what is the meaning of existence of the extra branches?

The summer cicada was born and died in the tree, and it was only one summer. Such a short life is nothing more than the irritating chirping of cicadas in summer. No one would know why it kept chirping from birth to death, and no one would have paid attention to it, but it fell to the ground when it died, and then mixed with the dirt and couldn't tell what it looked like. Still waiting for the body to dry up, in the scorching sun or cold rain, slowly thrown into nothingness.

Some...... It's just the invective that comes from the hot afternoon, and the wish that it will never be heard again.

This is the scenery that I see through the glass window, and this is the picture that I can't forget in my mind.

It is this self-righteous youth, and it is this self-righteous life.

I loved you purely, in a glass window, on a street corner you didn't know, in that age when I hid my thoughts in time, and then slowly fermented into secrets. It's just such a time, such a seventeen-year-old...... Where is it.

I also used to guard the annual rings on the stump and stupidly count the laps with my fingers, which was like the scale of love. It's ridiculous to think that's what love looks like.

I love you so purely, you can't know it.

It's like the chirping of cicadas in summer, like side-by-side and superfluous branches. It's always easy to be caught, no matter what kind of attitude it is.

Superfluous, as well as incomprehensible.

That's it!