Growing up, I don't believe anyone in this world will never leave. The word "forever" only applies to sentimental idiots.

No matter what kind of feelings between people, once the ties are broken, it is meaningless to put on a polite face to perfunctory each other.

I have done my best within the scope of my efforts, and it doesn't matter if I don't. As I said, nothing in this world is particularly important to me, and I never miss it between gain and loss.

I crossed the road with the crowd, but I was cut off by the endless stream of vehicles, and I couldn't find a gap.

It is not a pleasant thing to meet people side by side in a crowded street, especially for people like me who are in a certain state of mind. In the noisy crowd, there is indeed a life that comes and goes in a hurry. Looking at busy and nervous passers-by seems to fill my pallor and panic to some extent. Modern rhythm is far from what I can keep up with. My life is only equivalent to the only habit, that is, I have been living in the illusion of being out of touch with reality.

The more people there are, the richer the visual content, and the less conspicuous I am in it, so I won't attract attention. And those passers-by who have only met once in this life, who has leisure time to see who? I'm safe inside.

Looking at the misty rain in mid-air, you will naturally think of Tomb-Sweeping Day. A few deserted pedestrians on the road just want to hurry, and it seems that no one wants to lose their lives. The reason is very simple, however, all modern cities see are asphalt roads or stone roads, at least they will be poured with asphalt. What was the difficulty of walking on muddy dirt roads in the Du Mu era? The shoes were too heavy to lift their legs. If you walk easily, you don't have to break your soul. Is it really easier for modern people to walk than before? It seems so, but it is not.

Can spilled water be recycled? Can what happened be erased from memory? Will you leave no scar after cutting and stopping bleeding? I don't know anything. All I know is that what I say can't count, and sometimes life can start all over again.

I have nothing more to say. Silence. Not everything will go to blowing in the wind, and the truly deep memory will never change. In recent years, even if I accidentally touched the box containing the past, the thing that was pressed in the deepest place would fly out and overflow my mind. The old things that have been dusted for fifteen years have been brought up again, and I only feel an unbearable sting and sadness more than fifteen years ago.

The ancients had a cloud, and when they smiled, they lost their enmity. Can all kinds of life really be open-minded and laugh it off? I'm confused.

I wandered around the city like a ghost, and caught a glimpse of my frightened face in various windows. The desolation that let the cars flying around crush my heart seemed to have turned into fly ash at that time.

Once upon a time, I thought that with the richness of a foreign country, I might be able to nourish my extremely scarce mind. However, when I wandered around in a strange place or place, when my initial novelty and curiosity faded, I didn't feel that I had gained a solid knowledge. Instead, I climbed into my heart with aimless confusion and emptiness that I couldn't find my place.