It is said that for human life, there is a cycle of seven years, and every seven years is a rebirth. After seven years, there will no longer be a trace of the person seven years ago.
The hourglass is time. Seven years ago, I wanted to tell him: Our love is shuttled in quicksand. As much time as I have, there is as much love as there is. At first glance, it seems to be just a small handful, but it can have no beginning and no end, and will never run out.
And seven years later, I realized that none of us who were too young at the time had ever thought that the happiness that we thought was firmly in our hands might one day be ruined by a grain of sand that can't be rubbed out of our eyes.
Special thanks to the cover and column (O ^ ~ ^ O)
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