Chasing the Dust and Chasing the Waves

The autumn wind blows, the fallen leaves fly, and the falling dust never returns. When spring comes, the swallows are gone, and the flowers fade and bloom elsewhere. … The turquoise stone steps and pavilion footprints are vaguely reminiscent of the scene back then; The green bamboos are lush, the wind is rustling, and the backs of my parents are nowhere to be found... …