A branch, broken and split, dangling year after year, clicking its song to the wind, with neither leaves nor bark, bear, wan, worn out by a long life and a long death. Its song echoes, cracking and persistent. Stubbornly, it resounds with secret anguish for yet another summer, yet another winter.
用户评论
我爱Arale
2024-09-09 05:58
憨兔兔
2024-09-10 08:58
天堂里的泥巴
2024-09-09 06:35
長樂☻
2024-09-09 04:36
奔跑的不锈钢
2024-09-09 10:18