I didn't look back, it was getting cold, and I had a runny nose. I wiped the tears and snot on my face with my sleeves, and answered her loudly with a choked voice: "What does it matter? Even if I can't change anything by myself, even if I don't reach the end, as long as those people can 'wake up', then even if I die, there will be nothing left for me." After I die, there will still be countless determined people who are brave and strong, and they will go further than me! So what if I try my best and still don't finish it? At least I firmly believe that what I do is not useless, at least I know that there will be countless people who will follow the same path as me in the future!"
The next afternoon, Mo Li and I sat side by side on the grass. In front of us, some fat sparrows were walking slowly underground. Ah, it was already winter. Mo Li had just finished practicing, and she was still wearing a tutu. Because the shoes were uncomfortable to walk, she went barefoot. I was afraid that she would catch a cold, so I took off my coat and put it on her. It was a familiar scene, and I thought of the question again: "Mo Li, what is art to you?" She may also be thinking about me. Went to the same scene, so I laughed a few times, wiped the sweat on my face, and said seriously: "I dare not say that I am a great artist, nor can I say that I have many accomplishments in this area, but in my opinion, anything that can express one's feelings and make people feel comfortable is art."