The clock of time keeps spinning, and the sun and moon keep chasing, so we grow up. I don’t know where the starting point is. I just remember to go forward. At the moment of being an adult, a road suddenly diverged like a river bank.. The soft arcs faint and dye into the distance, and here we experience the first wandering. The hourglass needs quicksand after all, and the river flows into a river after all. Still on the road, on the road where you can’t see your head at a glance. Friends around you, many passers-by who passed by know each other, met here, took helpless steps, and then became strangers. Rub your aching shoulder and then go. Always on the road. Butterflies are beautiful and the wind is too strong. Road, always so long. Walk too anxiously, walk too desperate, walk too righteousness without care. So, forget the roadside scenery, ignore the vast roadside, only remember, on the road. Slowly getting older, the sand carved ravines in the face, and the sun painted the brown face.. The temples are white, the back is hooked, the staff is leaning on, and the rest is buried. On the way. Life is so short. The flowers have withered and blossomed, and the birds have gone and come again. Why, but can’t remember the color of the road, can’t remember the dust behind. Fantasy returns to the starting point, once ignorant year of China. However, they are dying and are willing to be puppets. No one will bring them up. A lot of tears will not be recorded when they come, and messy hair will not hold up the pace before, only that is not a long way away, so desolate and overgrown with weeds.. The lost beauty and the lost misery have all been consumed for a long time, because there is only a way in the brain. The wind is blowing away, and the blood is ticking down from his heart.. The sticky blood smell is suggestive of the tip of the nose, and the choking haze oppresses the pupil. No longer have the strength, no longer can see clearly. Just staring at his body, like a shell left by metamorphosis, his eyes are no longer clear and his mouth is no longer bloody. The old empty eyes were full of heavy fog. When the wind comes, the tobacco shreds will disappear. The wind went away and darkness hung over it.