After two or three months of grinding and grinding, and after several years of spring and autumn, I was finally fortunate to take the first step in hitting the street, and finally there was a street to fight. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

Although he is not a person who likes nonsense, he still generally adheres to a mind, wants to do, and wants to do things well, so it is inevitable to be verbose.

I probably think that life is like this, and it is inevitable to encounter setbacks and procrastination.

There will be excitement because of joy, and tears will be shed because of sadness.

At the end of the day, the content of the book was a bit lackluster, and I always wanted to write a good story, but I was hit head-on at the beginning.

Perhaps many people can see that at the beginning of this book, there is actually a very heavy shadow of the Condor.

In fact, to be honest, at the beginning, I really wanted to write a book about the Condor, but for some reasons that everyone understands, I had no choice but to give up.

There are regrets and unwillingness.

This is probably my later writing mentality, and if I continue to write with this mentality, I can only become a shadow under the collapse of the plot in the end.

That's why he gradually lost the ability to break out, and he gradually fell into the pain of breaking off.

This pain is so real that it has been entangled for a long time, and it is difficult to get rid of it.

Obviously, he looked only one step away from the other side, but he was still stuck in the sea of misery.

That's when you start to doubt yourself.

Doubt your purpose, doubt your original intention, doubt your ability, and doubt whether you can go to the end.

I probably didn't care how many people read my book, or what other people thought of me.

But I know that that's not why I wrote the story badly. I've failed countless times, but I still want to succeed.

The unexpected beauty of the fruit of success,

Maybe only in dreams,

But what does it matter.

Attached at the end is a small poem,

The swarthy palm turned over the hard mud,

But I was told that there were delicate and lovely flowers growing here.

"Leave quickly, bum",

"You don't know how to plow and cultivate, what do you want to be a farmer!"