In winter，the boundary of the lake and the sky became a golden line in the sunshine.

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The trash bag was painted with golden lacquer. I was in a cramped space, breathing the pungent smell of lacquer. It seems that I was in the Eden, lying between transience and eternity, feeling stifling and warm . want to use my body and motion to color the lake, so I rolled over and over on the freezing lake. I can hear my breath and the squeak of the trash bag.