Time is like life, passing by every day, and those forgotten and abandoned memories are settling in the unclear river of memory. Slowly buried by dust, seemingly invisible but still there. What will happen to us when these memories resurface. . .
We are all running and sometimes we don't even know what we are running from. Looking at the sky, the blue and cloudless sky exudes loneliness and sadness. Your face appears again, hazy, and what do you want me to do? . . .