Personality

Buy seeds, but plant not one flower but a garden.

The boy buried his small face in his chest and said hello in a low voice.

Then all the following words were swallowed by him, allowing him to plunder his thin body.The warmth exchanged by body temperature is enough to drive away the coldness of the night.

Deep or shallow groans filled the small room, and outside was the patter of light rain. Under the night sky of Turin, Italy, the ensemble formed a romantic serenade.Gentle and lingering, the moment is forever.

total darkness.

A slit opened, a man sat by the bed and fiddled with his camera, the photos were scattered on the white bed, the soft white sheets exuded the faint fragrance of the sun, clean and white compared to the messy sheets full of smoke smell in his own home much.

Fingers protruded from under the quilt, before they reached midair, the man had already gently pulled her. A kiss, like a white feather in the dark night, fell gently on his skin.

Naked, like a virgin arousal.No one has touched him, and he is always used to hugging himself in the cold.The heavily made-up woman in the cramped apartment was not his mother, he was not her son, he was someone else.A naive and ignorant boy.

Accidentally ran away from the perfect world of fairy tales, the world dear and made him believe too.There is sunshine in the world, bright sunshine everywhere, friendly smiles, and quiet scenery.You give love and you get love.Someone wants to love you and be loved by you.

You are happy and blessed.

There was a brief darkness, and the light reappeared.

The man's lips carried a pleasant fragrance, repeatedly lingering on his slender neck.He wrapped his arms around his neck, hid in the man's arms like a cat basking in the sun, and let him kiss him tenderly.

The photos he took of him are all pasted on the wide wall to the left of the bed, so many.His smiling face has been magnified and magnified, the beauty of his smile cannot be compared to the beauty of the world, in the eyes of men, he is the whole world.

Darkness flashed by.

The man wrapped his naked body with an Indian blanket. They sat on the window sill, looking at the peaceful street view outside. The stone road was wet by the morning mist. How kind, there is the sound of cars in the square in the distance, and green vines climb on the outer walls of ancient stone houses, and beautiful flowers bloom shallowly in the gaps in the stone walls.Under the street lamp, on a long bench, an old couple held hands and basked in the sun.The water column sprayed high by the fountain is faintly visible in the gaps between the wooden windows of the houses.

He stayed quietly in the man's arms, holding a rose he had just picked in his hand.Behind them is a large area of ​​charming golden, and large bunches of sunflowers piled up in the corner illuminate the whole room.

A moment of darkness, light.

A flock of gray pigeons fluttered across the clear sky, and a dove landed on the windowsill where they were, with the mild sunlight.

He fed the pigeons with bread crumbs, and the man put his chin lightly on his shoulder and smiled lightly.The pigeon cooed and pecked contentedly at the food in his hand.He looked down at the pigeon, stroked its wings carefully, with surprise on his face.He looked back at the man who was embracing him from behind.

Then a long kiss.The petals of roses, the remaining morning dew, fell sweetly on the rough stone windowsill.

It's just darkness, darkness without sound.

The scenery is gradually opened, an opening movie.

He was alone.

He used his eyes as a camera, keeping in his mind all the trivial memories of the relationship between him and this man.

No one will read it, except him and him.

He has disappeared, and he is ready to follow him.

The door was locked again, and the key was gently pulled out of the keyhole.

Turning around again, he walked slowly down the stairs.

The sun is so bright.Step out and there's only one other person.

The water of the Po River gurgles and flows, and Italy is still beautiful.

Without him, there would be no Sogno and Girasole.

Light disappears and darkness descends.

And there must be a different light, reborn in another place.Even with the huge shadows of birds flying overhead.

End

初稿完于2006年7月27日晚23时15分

第一次修改完于2006年8月2日14时27分

第二次修改完于2006年9月25日晚23时20分

第三次修改完于2006年午后9月26日14时32分

第四次修改完于2006年9月26晚20时28分

第五次修改完于2006年10月2日13时45分

番外修改完于2006年9月26晚21时15分