Time has passed through the story, and those scattered memories are still left in my heart. Wandering in space, ending melancholy, at that time, let the memory be fixed in the time that belongs to us.
Recall the memories of the past and lament the stories of the past.
Time flies, time flies like an arrow. Coming and going in a hurry, what can be harvested in the end are still heavy memories, full of emotional pigments that will never fade away. On the white paper, the familiar words will always be written...
When the past has gone far, when the years have passed, when all the people and things, with the passage of time, continue to grow old and show their final appearance, and the tone of sighing, no matter how to understate it, after all, it is still the yesterday that cannot be returned, and the past that cannot be forgotten.
It's not that you are here during the best times, but that I have the best times because you are here.