A year and a half is less than five hundred days. Is there really beauty in the world? But why would the person in my heart never look back at him even once? Is there really eternity in this world? But why can't the memories in my heart be grasped or held firmly? If there is light over there, why am I blind? This article is updated every year. The author is a homeless person. The structure and story line of this article were provided orally by a former classmate. Thank you.