Back to the local junior high school for three years

 I do not know how many people here will remember me. Perhaps the unknown has long been forgotten in a corner of the bar. Once we remember things. We are not always remember. School or that way. We were young and ignorant all scattered in the place. Scattered in the middle of that second floor classroom. Scattered on the basketball court. Scattered in the corner of the unknown. Watching mentees in school uniform classrooms in the playground shuttle stop. Can see the before himself. Think about actually never seriously through the school uniform. I suddenly wanted to look at your uniform. Holding the racket. Drop by drop from the fringe in sweat rolling down the look. I looked at those from the push past the strange and indifferent faces. But you can not see clearly. I can not see who's face can be filled out I want flowers. I want to see the end of time. And three years later. I still can clearly recall the scene. Around a lot of cars. Many people. Despite being in the evening sun is still hot. Lane through to the long evening. Through the delicate green fields under the hot sun. Through the bustling city of stone forests. We run through the back carrying a bag. We bike through the scattered laughter. Off off through the sorrows and joys, obviously. Sink through the rising and volatile month. Through the four seasons. Through the birds. Through our long hair. We then messy feet in the debris scattered over the ground. Always taken the trouble to turn round. Stopped for. Then time to vigorously forward and I am still running. I like standing on the hill. To see the city prostrate at my feet. See everyone's sorrows and joys, the noise mixed with earth. Cang washed with high embarrassment. Watch the sun shone straight. Strand space of all body and soul. Someday. I packed up again and start with you. Look not seen the mountain. Do not go through the water. After squandering the youth is not squandered. Memorial to commemorate the past can not mark. Now. Broken message. We live in the living area alone years. Happy. Sad. Disappointed. Depressed. Then wait for joy hope tomorrow. Speaking my thoughts. Over and over again about my recollections of junior high school days. .