Chocolate roller cake

Summer is a popsicle, licking on a sweet mouth. In the summer of childhood, there was always an old man who sold popsicles in front of primary school. After school, he cried out with a big, dumb voice, "Sweet popsicle, one cent at a time..." Our children were drawn to the past and surrounded him. A child took a dime out of his pocket and handed it to him, and he took an ice cap out of the white foam box in front of him and put it on. I looked through my pockets and found only one five-point steel platinum. The little buddy Tiger, staring at the five cents in my hand, was happy to say to me, "I only have five cents in my pocket, and we'll get a popsicle together." We put two steels together and bought a popsicle, and we drank. I was walking with a popsicle and a tiger, and I licked it, and it felt sweet, and then I put it to the mouth of the tiger, and the tiger licked it. Finally, we both licked the popsicles, and we're left with a stick. At that time, it was thought that popsicles were the best snack in the world and dreamt of eating one of them every day. When you grow up, you can buy lots and lots of popsicles in your pocket, but you don't like it anymore. When I was eight years old, I was obsessed with popsicles, when I was 18, with books, and when I was 28, with coffee... I was obsessed with baking in my thirties, and my life passed in such a hurry, leaving only a shallow mark in my memory. I always miss the summer that two people licked a popsicle, the age of innocence. Summer is a green shade, cool and hot. Years ago, there was a wood behind my house. By summer, those trees were dazzling and looking as green as an island. At noon, the sun was hot, the heat was steaming, and the world was like a steam cage. The ground of the trees is as though it had been made into a cold table with a heavy shade. Neighbors carry stools into the woods to catch cold. They're sitting together talking about parents short or playing cards. The laughter echoes in the shade. Famous women dance here and sing here, and the purple field and the wild artery bloom here. I got tired of playing with my little friends, lying on the legs of grown-ups, bugging them to tell stories. I grew up floating in strange cities. The interlocking streets divide cities into many areas, and layers of corroded concrete divide countless small worlds. We don't know who lives next door, let alone with our neighbours. We're bored in our own little world, wandering around in the park, enjoying the trees that have been transplanted from nature, looking at the strangers who are so popular. I've always felt that people are far away from each other and that people are farther from nature. I always miss the shade of childhood and the summer before。