——Halfway through life, we are all travelers moving forward with cracks.
Some people use buildings to repair the city's imperfections, and some use lenses to record the scars of the world.
But he forgot the unhealed wasteland in his heart.
Until an ordinary afternoon,
In the smell of smoke drifting from the hospital rooftop,
On a rainy night, under the umbrella held out to each other's children at the same time,
In front of the dying lamp on the bedside of the cheap hotel,
We finally understand:
**Love is not a vigorous illusion of youth,**
**It is a contract that you are willing to sign even though you know the risks in middle age——**
**Use your lens to focus on my vulnerability,**
**Embrace your bumps with my blueprint. **
