When I reach my thirties, I already feel that life is very long. Those things that I have seen through and things that I have not seen through allow me to live brightly and darkly in a corner of this world. Fragmented fragments, floating thoughts, murmuring to themselves in the sunshine and autumn wind. Sometimes a dandelion seed buries humility in the fog of depression and blooms into a small flower. Sometimes there is a seed that just sticks its head into the soil, so sad that it rots. Don't ask if you know this world is very good. All I can do is feel it, and follow the seeds falling, unable to grow wantonly.
Concept: emotional journey