There is always a time in my memory. Every time I think of it, it seems that the sunshine of that day can still shine in front of me, so light and soft.
It's not that the present is inferior to the past, it's just that it's a place you can never go back to, so it has indescribable beauty.
The passing of life is a period that will never go back.
However, where is the boundary between past and present, present and future?
Where is the end point of each seemingly clear life?
Let's hear a story.
Of course, there may or may not be an answer here.