When I melted in the desert of this time like a pool of mud, I no longer heard the strong beating of my heart. I couldn’t look back on the past or the future, whether time has forgotten me or I have missed time. Once I die, I can no longer smell the breath that I once lived, just like the endless fragrance when flowers bloom and the mud when they wither. Countless people struggle, struggle, struggle, struggle, in the muddy swamp, in the vast grassland, in the boundless empty blue sky, the so-called ideal and belief that I firmly believe in. If you succeed, you will be admired by thousands of people. If you fail, you will be spurned by the world. Success or failure, finally stay in history for a short time, finally, be lost in the long river of time, how calm and silent you can have, history can forget you more thoroughly. I can’t understand and understand. People are getting busier and busier, like ants. They come and go from morning till night, but forget what the purpose of being busy is. Maybe one day, people’s accelerated lifestyle, Let people become real machines. Or maybe one day, people suddenly stopped the mechanical movement, soberly, and realized what they had forgotten. Who knew it. How terrible the time was. I didn’t remember until I realized that the double ten years had passed in a hurry. It seemed that I had passed away. I didn’t remember until I was terrible that I hadn’t left a memory that I could count after getting old. I still counted few memories like a few treasures, neither vigorous nor calm as water. It was time that taught me silence, time that taught me sadness, and time that taught me to walk calmly. I am willing to be like that Photographer. Even if I become a beggar, I still hold what I love. What about beggars. I would like to be like that beggar. When he asks for money from others and others only have half of the money he expected, he can say frankly that it’s OK, then you still owe me half. I don’t know what fate is. I don’t know how life goes. The only reason for me to continue was that when I began to think about why I was alive, I was indeed alive, and I had to live. Death, when I can still think about this question after death, I will think again. If I can’t think again after death, I will be lucky and my life will save me from answering this question. This is good.

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