That mountain, that sea
Destiny is like the gears inside a clock, always quietly turning back to its original position.
Two years later, my steps touched this embankment again. There are still two willows on the bank, accompanied by the spring breeze, blowing people's ears. Below the bank, the river is just like before, with boats drifting and waves rising. The other embankment, vague in the distance, still stood quietly.
It seems that the scenery in my eyes has been forgotten by the manipulator named "Time". But I seemed to have become the favorite in "his" eyes and was often missed.