After they said goodbye, she thought that maybe she would still be wandering all the way. The place she thought she could settle down turned out to be an illusion. This was not her ocean after all.
Youth is too hasty, so fast that people have no time to write, no time to appreciate the grace of that time, so they can only rely on fragments of memories to record.
Some people find happiness in it, and some people become desolate in it. The height of people's hearts is difficult to predict. Who can accurately grasp the future?