After dusk, the wind in the equator is cool, and the night of Africa is not far from the night. I sit under the starry sky in the southern hemisphere, with a bottle of WhiteCap and a bunch of bonfires. On this day, walking through the boundless golden smoke of Amboseli, chasing the elephants and playing, watching the zebras return home, looking back at the lion in the setting sun, under the blooming acacia tree, watching the last light sweeping through the power The snow of Mazzaro is like a shepherd. Everything and resentment fell into the Milky Way. After drinking this beer, I should go to graze the meteor.