Nostalgia is the beginning of aging.
And I only hope that I will grow old gracefully in my memory.
Not every love is full of ups and downs, life and death, the experience and entanglement of human nature is what makes our hearts move the most. The records of youth are clean and soft, and the warmth and touch are contained in the trivialities and ordinaryness of daily life.
The seemingly absent youthful feelings are always filled with a layer of indifferent melancholy, wrapped in memories and unassuming love, exuding a long-lasting sadness that cannot be let go. It's nice to be young.
Often stuck in memories. Only in memories, the past time seems tender, pure and beautiful. Or, it cannot be said to be memories, but just through other people's words, in other people's stories, in a daze, fantasy, and sometimes nostalgic for my own past emotions.
Intention: