Black Basket/fire Black Love Letter.

It's like a love letter I finished writing but didn't send. ——Sure enough, the sentiments filled with paper will eventually dissipate and disappear in the hot and depressing summer wind. I never think that the entrance to an airport or a train station is a sad place. I always feel that since someone comes, someone should leave. Birth, old age, illness, death, separation from love, long-term resentment, not being able to ask for something, not being able to let go, these are the eight sufferings of life, how can you not taste them. What should come will always come, and what should go will always go. I always read in books that those who should stay can't be driven away, and those who should leave can't be kept. Might as well just let it happen. I thought I would always maintain this indifferent mentality and look at the world indifferently. ——It's just birth and old age, it's just illness and death, it's just the pain of parting. It will always come. At least that's what I used to think. Conception: