Childhood has its own way of seeing, thinking, and feeling.
The eyes are full of verdure and cicadas cried continuously, like a summer that never disappears in everyone's memory, accompanied by mischief and all kinds of stubbornness, the free nutrients of childhood nourish the rich soul, but it is hard to find a trace. Looking down on the warmth and coldness of the human world from a fantasy and surreal perspective, the countryside in the early postwar period was not all outside the world, cold-eyed and contemptuous, crowded out and rumors, and never missed any corner of human existence. The boy who was hostile by everyone did not know where he fell.
From the perspective of personal childhood memories, the…