“April ninth.” Max tells me quickly. It's already April? I stopped counting time months ago. What even is time? I see it as space in our minds we need to fill with things to do until we are tired. Then, the process starts all over again until it brings a new week, a new month, or even a new year. It never changes. It's always the same. Nothing ever changes. I'm tired of the same old.
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Though it was only a few days after " Clear and Bright Festival" the April sun was already very strong. It scorched Old Tong Bao' s spine like a basin of fire.
“清明”节后的太阳已经很有力量，老通宝背脊上热烘烘地，像背着一盆火。
Festival" the April sun was already very strong. It scorched Old Tong Bao' s spine like a basin of fire."
“清明”节后的太阳已经很有力量，老通宝背脊上热烘烘地，像背着一盆火。
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