What is the past is what it will be like from the present moment to the next second, so it also becomes a memory of the future. The beauty of youth is also unforgettable. Some words are buried deep in my heart and become secrets. I don't know how to say them out. And some people cannot keep them in the end and can only miss them... We meet in a dream, and the flowers bloom and fall and finally part ways. In the years that have turned into memories, who warmed whose heart and who exaggerated whose sadness? Falling flowers are flying, their respective ends of the world...
Intention: