Tag: Whiteout Survival
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In the fields at dusk, I wait for the footsteps of freedom and that beam of light
The fields at dusk are as quiet as an unfinished poem. In the distance, the sky begins to become blurred and gradually stained with dark re
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Thinking about the absurdity and helplessness of life in the sound of the popcorn pot lid
On the street corner that winter day, Ju Fufu waved the old pot lid in his hand, knocking on the pot body, maki