Memoirs of Awakening

He just takes photos casually and misses the scenery along the way; he just keeps moving forward to destroy his lover's longing; everything is rushing, and everything has a pulse, expressing joy, anger, sorrow, and joy, and at the same time accommodating the ups and downs. The roar of the subway beats at the door of my heart, and the tinkling of the spring water interprets my inner voice. She only needs to look at me, and I will anxiously write down stories; she only needs to call me, and I will write poems in a hurry. From beginning to end, from beginning to end. As long as the raindrops are mottled, I must be missing you; as long as the wind is howling, I must be waiting for you; hopeless waiting, fruitless wandering, the road ahead is foggy, and the sun is revealed after clearing the clouds.