rage

There is a small village, a middle-aged postman, he just turned 20-year-old began the second day to and from the 50 km journey, day after day to enjoy worry Beixi story to the residents of the home. In this way 20 years and over in a flash, things were a series of changes, but the post office from the village to the road, past and present, never a second half of the eye-catching as far as I can only dust it.

“This desolate road to go for how long handmade jewelry?”
I think he must be free to spend without tree full of dust on the road, walking his bicycle through life, the mind is always some regret.
One day while his letter, ready to go back and pensive mood, after just a flower shop. “Yes, this is!” He walked into a flower shop, bought a wild flower seeds, and the next day from the start, spreading the seeds with them on the road in between. In this way, after a day or two days a month, two months … … he has continued to spread the seeds of wild flowers.

Not long, that has been going back and forth the deserted roads of 20 years, has opened a lot of red and yellow flowers of different colors; open in the summer to spend the costume jewelry, opened in the fall of autumn flowers, blooming season and never stop.

Seeds and flowers of the village people, the postman than a lifetime of service to any message, they also feel happy.
But not in full of dust filled petals whistled on the road, walking the bicycle postman, is no longer a lonely postman, is no longer suffering of the postman