It doesn't matter which city you are in. It is big or small, prosperous or clean, poetic or experienced. In short, no matter which city you are in, no matter what happened in this city, what stories there are, it may really not matter to you. Because first of all, you have to ask yourself, are you from this city, or in other words, does this city have a place for you to sleep? If the answer is no, then the result is yes. You are a passerby, one of the "human beings" that this city never lacks but never has contact with. Is it a bit eye-catching? Even among the so-called "all living beings", you are so inconspicuous, and your sense of existence has nothing to do with you. If you throw generals in, you won't cause a single ripple. You see how irrelevant you are. But you can only laugh at yourself, because busy beings have no extra time to laugh at you. You are really irrelevant, please believe me. But what to do? Is it just because you can't escape these ordinary shackles that you have to be imprisoned in this deep fear and hesitation and stay depressed? What is life for? In fact, it is inconvenient to think too clearly. Look at the sky. The more you want to explore its infinity, the more you feel insignificant. In the end, you find that you are as small as dust, but the vastness of the sky is far more than that. Instead of letting anxiety fill the sea of time, it is better to keep steady and not look at those things that we cannot see when we look up. Instead, we only look at the road under our feet and the clear people or things around us. Suddenly you will feel that everyone is an autobiography, even if he is so ordinary...
Intention: struggle