In this life, people come and go, meeting only those few people, going around and around, encountering only those few things.
"Why are you here?"
"Come here to come."
Author: This story is simple (it should be), and it can't be considered a sweet story (maybe), it's just the author's temporary inspiration (it is).
Intention: It rains in the rivers and lakes at night, and the wind blows in the mountains and seas.