The self-statement of the marginal people can’t be mentioned from a certain time. The scattered memory is like a small stone walking casually on the roadside, which was kicked by someone unintentionally, the place where it stopped was the place where it couldn’t change but wanted to hide. At this time, the memory was lying there ugly. The marginal people came over, picked up the memory and carefully put it into their pockets, the fingers did not leave for a moment, fearing that the memory would run out to scare away the grass and wild flowers on the roadside. Only by keeping it tightly, until they met the dark blue lake, they slept at the bottom of the lake together and washed away all the grievances, the memory and he would not feel the crisis in the world. This is the memory of the marginal man and him. I am, this marginal man, like a small piece of dust, still had to choose to fasten the dark yellow land tightly under a beam of lonely sunshine, because memories were buried in this land. In April and May, the color was too strong. The Lavender pea flowers were quietly decorated with branches. Its roots were deeply inserted into memories, as if only it knew the power and secrets in the land. I am, this marginal man, struggled to climb the Highland, and his eyes were still full of the dilapidated low-lying land in the complicated central China. Holding my memory, I ran back to the low-lying land cautiously, as if I was still in the straight ladder. This is the self-statement of the marginal people. There is no way to talk about it. I secretly found that I was him and you as well.

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