Water town in dream

Minor tunes make Jiangnan. Perhaps floating in the shingles of Jiangnan, the grass growing heart contains not only wet smell, but also a bored song. Though she was tired, she was pleasantly tired. People in Jiangnan are not born to sing Qinqiang. Their graceful and ethereal songs are more like a dialogue with nature. They don't need to hohiss, only need to tell. Whether it is a purdah girl, or a forthright fisherman, whether it is an old man selling oil-paper umbrellas, or a child learning to speak, the minor is their daily language, song is the word, and the word is the song. Only with the minor tune can there be a complete Jiangnan.