The end of this generation's youth is like a beautiful dream that eventually wakes up and you have to face reality. Everyone has their young and frivolous days, and everyone has had a gorgeous and beautiful dream.
The soil of reality is too stiff after all, and the flowers of dreams have withered and withered before they bloomed. Time is really a ruthless carving knife, destroying girls, cooking young boys, leaving piles of bones. The future is destined to be ordinary after all. Has the original wish come true? Where is the person I loved deeply at that time going now? Time dries the ideal moisture, and time changes our passion. We can never find the real us again, the passionate years are left in the long river of time.