Time is the most secret typewriter, carving the most profound mark on the paper of life. None of us can interpret it, but it's not because we don't know how.
It's because we can't see the familiar scenery in front of us, it's beyond recognition.
Words are flying, time is chaotic, we can no longer go back to the best time. No one can reassemble the years burned to ashes.
If youth has an ageless face, I hope it will never be changed.
Look, these are my last green years, the most perfect and painful years.
Because the first half of my life has burned into a handful of ashes.
It's just that we are too young. We were all young at that time.