Looking back in the rain, I felt that a thousand years had passed. It was also the Buddha who once said: "Five hundred times of looking back are exchanged for passing by once, joys and sorrows, separation and separation, the origin and destruction of fate, and ultimately we cannot escape the cause and effect."
After searching for so many years, everything just seems to be back to the starting point, with no trace of the past.
Because time has always flowed slowly through static repetition, leaving nothing behind. Perhaps the only thing left behind is a trace of familiarity and regretful lifelong choices.
Some people say that the end of life is just the summary of a story, and it is just an insignificant episode in the vast torrent of history. Others say that what has been will happen again, what has been done will be done again, and the end of life will be the beginning of another story. Over and over again, seemingly different lives, but making the same choice. Making the same choice, but with different results, is missing out.