I Have No Shore at All

We have been looking for that place where we can go ashore all our lives. Maybe this place is very close, sometimes it is far away. In fact, when we stand on the beach and think about it, we have already arrived. The sea in my youth has long been mottled and visible after experiencing turbulence, so I rely on memories and years to recall it again. When we were young, we were like a tightly closed door and window. The moonlight, summer night, and the chirping of cicadas were all locked outside the window. Life was like still water running deep, taking away all the good things that should have come earlier. I wanted to escape, using my insignificance to pass under the barbed wire fence, listening to the rain of bullets passing through my ears, from the long road to the cliff, time persuaded me to turn back and come to the shore. But I have no shore.