Buddha said: "It takes 500 looks back in the past life to pass by in this life." In the early summer of that year, the light green grass was blown by the warm breeze into waves, the wrinkled old bark was mottled, and the whirling tree shadows were hazy and brilliant. Each uneven track was a witness to the intersection of our lives.
In the snow-covered winter, the snow petals are scattered all over the sky, intertwining trajectories and perfect arcs. In the winter alone, I finally can't keep up with your footsteps.
I fell in love with you when I first met you when I grew up, and when I passed you by.