A branch is a chrysalis on a branch, a self-made cocoon. It may be blocked by wind and rain, eroded by severe cold and heat, or it may be infected with sensitive and fragile emotions. But its vitality is eternal. The seasons change and time is like a gap. The white horse flies by. A branch has lost a lot and gained a lot. She has faded her youthful years and emerged from her cocoon. She is finally the heroine of her own life. In fact, every girl can be her own heroine. Every experience and choice will open a new plot. The year of cardamom is fleeting, so we must seize every bit and drop to pursue the majesty of the four seasons and appreciate the prosperity of the four seasons.
Intention: Because I feel that the world is so big, we are like dust; because God is saddened by joys and sorrows, and the shadow of the moon is difficult to round; because I want to leave some traces of the wind and noise in this youth, so I write to express the warmth of words.