I don't know why my father was always obsessed with those words, telling me to think about a pen every day.

This form of persecution only makes me scratch my scalp and write a terrible article. It is as if every baby is born snow-white, and at most they inherit a part of their parents.

When they open their eyes, they will feel the first rays of light, which is the joy of the gift of life. When they learn to walk, stumble, and become conscious of themselves, the test of life is about to begin.

。 So what is my test? It was my great father.

"The Corner of the Planet" My father and I (1) are in the middle of the hand, please wait a moment,

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