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在听一首歌:牛奶咖啡的《明天,你好》。单曲循环,画面迭出,每个音符都在述说着我的过往。看昨天的我们走远了在命运广场中央等待那模糊的肩膀越奔跑越渺小昨天的我,17岁就开始了粉笔生涯的我,在哪儿等待今天的我驻足回望呢?啊,是了,就是那个菜花香里的乡镇中学,一群只比我小两三岁的初中一年级的孩子,我的笑我的泪我的汗水,我的爱我的痛我的幸福,都从那里出发。刚刚中师毕业的我,偶尔还会为那个年代
Listen to a song: “Coffee tomorrow, hello.” Single cycle, the picture after another, each note are talking about my past. Yesterday, we go away in the fate of the central square wait for the fuzzy shoulders run more insignificant Yesterday, I started my chalk career at the age of 17, where I wait for today I stopped looking back ah? Yes, Is that the cauliflower in the township middle school, a group of only two or three years younger than me, first-year children, my laugh my tears my sweat, my love my pain my happiness, starting from there. I just graduated from the master, and occasionally for that era