For a long time, whenever the sun sets and it's cloudy, I always like to change seats in front of the window with my classmates and look at the sky for a long time. I always like to imagine, what is it like on the other side of the horizon? I don't know why the sky was always cloudy and melancholy gray at that time, but it was particularly comfortable to look at. The clouds, which were sometimes light and sometimes thick, also looked like a kind of confused and powerless beauty. Just like the memories of youth, sometimes they are vague and frivolous fragments, and sometimes, they are thick and heavy misses. Confused and powerless.
We have gone through youth, and the confusion and pain of growing up are indelible memories. The mistakes we made when we were young, the phone calls that always come as scheduled in the middle of the night, are accompanied by the nightmare that lingers in our youth. Many years later, in that quiet little station, what will be the ending for you and me?