Everything is so elusive, everything is so bizarre, leisurely tossing and turning in time, inscribed into the most gorgeous bookmarks, stored in the notes of memory, occasionally opened, gently savored, but tears are always uncontrollable.

We always have a dream when we are young, yearning for the infinite extension of childhood time, when we open our eyes, we will always open our eyes to the distant fields and the paper zither dancing with the thread, after the wind blows, the wheat waves are intertwined, the friends we like will never grow up, the happy days will not be too short, under the night sky, lying comfortably on the thick grass and trees, sucking the green and slightly sweet wheat stalks, and counting the stars in the sky together will naturally wake up lazy.

So, waving his hand becomes a kind of distant parting, stepping on the misty wet steps, chasing the memories that have long been gone and experienced, smiling and embracing the melancholy of the evening breeze that was forgotten hundreds of millions of years ago, like a dream, like the present, like the past, but it is difficult to recall.

There are many firsts in life, some of which we cherish, and every time we think of it, we will always reveal a shallow arc of our hearts, some of the candy that melts into time, and then slowly melts away and forgets, while some of them will grow with us and turn into the most gorgeous covenant in the time and space of the green rush.

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