Over the years, I will always think of the past. Everything in my memory has faded to a safe level and no longer makes me sad, or I no longer have a heart.
Flowers bloom in spring, leaves fall in autumn, and time moves forward quietly. Minutes and seconds, years and months, spring, summer, autumn and winter cycle over and over again. The joy of birth, the sorrow of passing, and the joys and sorrows staged by all things in the world have never stopped the leisurely pace of time.
Time is like a cat, walking gracefully and silently. You have no idea when it will come or when it will go. It was only when I suddenly found plum blossom footprints running around me that I was startled and suddenly realized that this was how I had gone through the vicissitudes of life.