A poet once said: "A life is a year, a year is a day, the rising sun and the setting sun are both your blank and motionless profile."
The silence of the passage of time has left us no time to gaze and stare, and we have been pushed to the ferry of youth in a hurry. Standing at the ferry of youth, staring at the vast future ahead, I have the vision of heroic ambitions, a sense of the history of life and an affectionate look back on the years. Thinking about one-half, one-third, or one-fourth of this life, and weighing its weight, my deepest feeling is that it is lost along the way, and many thick things are gradually becoming light, sparse, shallow, and sparse, such as innocence, family love, courage, friends...