I'm looking back, you're turning around the corner

This experience, after all, is in my pen has become an essay, full of feelings but the structure of loose. I try to perfect it into a novel, even a short story, it will become a part of my life to precipitate down, the lasting fragrance. But suddenly found that it does not have all the conditions of fiction, no cause after the development of the outcome, but also no climax. Just like on the corner of the pass, you stop to look back, it has turned away, leaving only the remnants of the brain image, the crowd diluted by haste. This glimpse of a long-lost heart, enough to write a beautiful prose, but did not leave me time to complete the novel. It chooses to turn, just because it is the destination. I sigh like this, back to my head, only to find that my foot is a few people walk the road, very long, can not see far away.

I'm looking back, you're turning around the corner