I spent a long time daydreaming about her breathing, her silence, the white dress she was wearing, watering the flowers in the corridor, thinking about her sitting in the house on a rainy day, counting the rain falling under the eaves, thinking about her waiting in the desolation. Love makes people lonely, anticipation makes people sad, ankles and hair, desolation and companionship. Recently, in my dreams, I dreamed that I was changing my words, and when I woke up, I was at a loss. I watched some detective dramas. The motive for murder is love besides property. Human desires are so naked and straightforward. Even you can't avoid tears. The longer time passes, the more real you feel. Living in those golden sunsets, in the dust, with a calm look. The light falls on your face, and the years are long.