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Blue sky, my dream paradise! This is the color of my life, the vastness I long for, the color of the sky in my blood, and the blue tears flowing in my eyes!
What's covering my eyes-I can't see the blue sky! What binds my wings and makes me yearn for the sky? Who turned us into hunting tools-lost spirituality?
I am not a puppet. I used to be a born perfect killer and a darling of nature. Hundreds of millions of years of carving have shaped my perfect body. My hometown is at the top of the steep mountain, the blue sky is the battlefield where our ancestors galloped, and Zhang Yi soars in the sky. I am the master of the desert sky-I am a sculpture!
The nest my parents built for me has gradually exceeded my increasingly plump wings. When I flapped my wings, I saw my father's approving eyes-it's time to learn to fly.
Jumping into the cliff valley, repeated failures did not discourage me. The falling feather is to get stronger and stronger, and there is a voice in my heart that has been shouting-blue sky. ...
Finally, I flew! Facing the mountain wind, I spread my wings, like a free spirit. Sometimes I hover, sometimes I soar, sometimes I fold my wings, then I shoot at the cliff valley like an arrow, and then I open my wings to let the rising heat lift me up. ...
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