"If the three thousand worlds are broken into tiny particles of dust, wouldn't it be better to have more dust particles?"
I will always remember the red-haired boy silently counting the sand dunes under the full moon. The quicksand of the desert seems to make everything invisible. Today's mountains, tomorrow's gullies, and the rivers under your feet will dry up in your field of vision. The young man is a lonely person thinking about "existence" in this world that is on the verge of being broken.
Some people pity his tragic life experience, some lament his ill-fated life, some praise him for regaining himself, some admire him for helping the world, and I am grateful from the bottom of my heart for this mobile land. Only in the mist can I feel the weight of flesh and blood. Only in wandering can I find the foundation of my hometown. Only by witnessing disappearance at any time can I better understand my existence. Even if my existence is only temporarily detained, it is already a great blessing.
No one is more real than the young man at this moment. One glance at the past, one glance at the future, and the third eye is staring at himself.