Heraclitus once said: "One cannot step into the same river twice." There are more or less such stories in the memories of our youth. Some stories are gradually forgotten by people as time goes by, and some stories are deeply rooted in our souls and cannot be erased. In the bizarre memories, some people come into our lives, and some people are just a flash in the pan and eventually become passers-by.
But that simple era had a lovely side to it. The things they had to think about had not yet risen to the level of complexity in life, and many things were not so vulnerable to being hit by reality. They were youthful and enthusiastic. This is their story, and it is also our story. There is a word to describe it, innocence.