Before I Turn 23

It's been one week since I got home.

Unlike those spindly trees dying along the streets of Shanghai because of constant movement, the soaring giants in my hometown stand still waiting for my annual return. So does the whole unknown moutainous town. Every day the sun falls behind the ever-green peaks and sinks into the peaceful lake as the golden color vanishes on the wall of my bedroom. Soon it takes on a new look, my favorite one, as the moon rises and casts its thousands of reflections on the lake on of/that is my flat wall, like a canvas, dotted with the beautiful shadows of a bamboo bush between my window and the lake. Every night before I close my eyes, it's there, like a curtain, behind which lies my mysterious dream land, where only I and the fresh summery breezes are allowed in.

But it's my last summer here.

So, this year is like one of the turning points in my life which, I believe, have all been written in advance.

To make it worth its reputation as a turning point, my mom has changed the slogan from "Knowledge changes your fate," to "No amount of knowledge can equal a decent husband." For the very first time my parents reached the an agreement about this although they hate each other's guts.

They are also surprised by my decision to work in at a bank, pleased to see their baby girl finally grow up and face the reality. Also, I kind of regret telling them where I work so because now they have the illusion that their daughter is in charge of the dollars in American people's pockets, and have ecstatically broadcast the news nationalwide nationwide. Like a betrayer, I don't even have the guts to recall what's permanently gone permanently.

It's all locked behind the wall of bamboo shadows and reflections of the moon, together with the memories of a beautiful summer of 2012.

I'll remember you.

Before I Turn 23

It's been one week since I got home.

Unlike those spindly trees dying along the streets of Shanghai because of constant movement, the soaring giants in my hometown stand still waiting for my annual return. So does the whole unknown mountainous town. Every day the sun falls behind the ever-green peaks and sinks into the peaceful lake as the golden color vanishes on the wall of my bedroom. Soon it takes on a new look, my favorite one, as the moon rises and casts its thousands of reflections on the lake on my flat wall, like a canvas, dotted with the beautiful shadows of a bamboo bush between my window and the lake. Every night before I close my eyes, it's there, like a curtain behind which lies my mysterious dream land, where only I and the fresh summery breezes are allowed in.

But it's my last summer here.

So, this year is like one of the turning points in my life which, I believe, have all been written in advance.

To make it worth its reputation as a turning point, my mom has changed the slogan from "Knowledge changes your fate" to "No amount of knowledge can equal a decent husband." For the very first time my parents reached the agreement about this although they hate each other's guts.

They are also surprised by my decision to work in a bank, pleased to see their baby girl finally grow up and face the reality. Also, I kind of regret telling them where I work so now they have the illusion that their daughter is in charge of the dollars in American people's pockets, and have ecstatically broadcast the news nationwide. Like a betrayer, I don't even have the guts to recall what's gone permanently.

It's all locked behind the wall of bamboo shadows and reflections of the moon, together with the memories of a beautiful summer of 2012.

I'll remember you.

Before I Turn 23 Twenty-Three

It's been one a week since I got came back home.

Unlike those spindly trees dying along the streets of Shanghai because of constant movement, [What do you mean by "movement", wind blowing? tremors on the street due to traffic? building being torn down and rebuilt?] the soaring giants in my hometown still stand; still waiting for my annual yearly return. So does too is the whole entire unknown moutainous town. Each and every day the sun falls sets behind the ever-green peaks and sinks into the peaceful lake as the its golden color hue vanishes upon the wall of my bedroom. Soon it takes on a new look, my favorite one, as the moon rises and casts its thousands of reflections on of the lake on against my flat wall. Like a canvas, it is dotted with the beautiful shadows of a the bamboos bush [bamboos are giant grasses, not treess or bushes] growing between my window and the lake. Every night before I close my eyes, it's is there, like a curtain behind from which lies my mysterious dream land dreamland, a place where only I and the fresh summery breezes and I are allowed to intrude in.

But it's Alas, my last summer of being in here.

So, This year is like one of the turning points in my life which, I believe, have all been written in advance predestined [not wrong, my preference].

To make it worth its reputation as a turing point, commenmorate, my mom had changed the slogan from "Knowledge changes your fate" to "No amount of knowledge can equal to that of a decent husband." For the very first time both my parents had reached the agreement about on this even although they hate each other's guts.

They are also surprised by my decision to work in a bank. They are pleased to see their baby girl had finally grow up blossomed and able to face the world reality. Also, I kind of there was regret in telling them where I work. so Now they have the illusion that their daughter is in charge of managing the dollars in American people's pockets, accounts of rich Americans.  and They have beamed ecstatically broadcast the news esctatically and now the entire nationalwide knows! 

Like a betrayer, I some turn-coat, I don't even have the guts to recall what's gone permanently had went by.  It's all locked behind the wall of bamboo shadows and the reflections of the moon, - together with the memories of a beautiful summer of 2012.

I'll remember you.

Good piece.