Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.And yellow leaves of autumn,which have no songs,flutter and fall there with a sigh.
夏天的飞鸟，飞到我窗前唱歌，又飞去了。秋天的黄叶，他们没有什麼可唱的，只是叹息一声，飞落在那里。
学校应该是一个微型社区，一个萌芽中的社会。
Writing is about finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape—the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.