The memory salvaged by years is torn apart, and the flowers bloom in the spring again, reclaiming, the bitterness of reincarnation,

Time is the core of memory, the fleeting time is the past, the passing scenery, I use tears to collect, not for sadness, just because every past is the only original creation. ——— Inscribing life is like a play, but it cannot be re-directed, and time is like a song, but it cannot be repeated.