The rushing time, the warm sun, my own life, passing by the most beautiful era, encountering different scenery, and seeing different bits and pieces. Maybe we sigh about time, but one day when we calm down, these sighs are just chats after a cup of tea. It turns out that we are all passers-by in time, but we must live hard and try to find our own different values in the gaps. Sometimes there is a dream, and who can tell the difference between reality and dreams? What is rare is that the original intention remains unchanged and after all the vicissitudes of life, there is nothing more than a "Fortunately, someone remembers." Many memories may slowly disappear and become blurred, but there are always people and things to remind you at any time, like a dusty box that will always be opened, but before that, I just listened to other people's stories over and over again.