I have searched for memories about him in my mind countless times, but the few fragments are blurry. The most real thing is that when he was dying, he said: I don't want to die.
The feeling of being intoxicated by memories is like just waking up and being indulged in a dream for a few seconds. I want to fall asleep and let the dream continue. However, the more I think about it, the fewer fragments of the dream become, and the more I think about it, the more I feel it has an inexplicable astringent taste.