On the country trail, I walked lazily with my mood. There is no trace of affectation. Everything is so natural. I think so is I. When the setting sun fell down, the sunflower lowered its head, like a pregnant young woman, a little shy. Looking at nobody around, I suddenly felt like I wanted to be a thief. Gently remove the weeds and jump over the path and the irrigation canal on the ground. I came to a sunflower field. I seem so tiny. At this moment, once I reach out and pick a sunflower, the definition of my life will change. But I couldn’t restrain my inner impulse. I was wondering whether to pull it up and carry it on my shoulder like Monkey Sun stealing banana fan, or to unscrew the sunflower head into my arms? I am a little disgusted with my own thoughts. Is it true that every thief is so entangled before committing a crime? Forget it, I think. Rather than being so tiring, it is better not to be depressed about the fresh air in the countryside. When I climbed the trail, I found that I was already in the middle of a large flock of sheep. Although I looked great inside, those short sheep hid from me one by one, as if I was not a creature on the Earth. The Shepherd was a young Kazak, riding a white horse, singing Kazak folk songs that I couldn’t understand, whistling a few loud whistles from time to time, directing the sheep. I really want to stop him and ask how can a whistle command so many animals? But I am afraid of interrupting his pleasant singing! I just want to be a happy person from tomorrow, or from now on? Is it to carry a hoe and hum a tune, or to ride a horse and whistle? I didn’t understand it all the way. All I know is that there are songs on the country path, and there is no composition, singing with the heart; The country path is covered with poems, flowing in the fields and streams, hanging on the treetops on both sides.

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