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Today, I feel younger and younger. I don't know whether there should be enthusiasm, expectation, hesitation, helplessness or melancholy to praise these hurried and fleeting times.

All the joys and sorrows drift with the wind, occasionally experiencing hardships and hardships, occasionally being a servant, but the most persistent thing is the mission of a traveler. In fact, there is no need to dilute the dust beside the warehouse, because the road is ahead and we still have to go.

The most beautiful place in a city is indifference, the indifference of the same high-rise buildings, and the indifference of dazzling neon lights. A traveler who came from the dust and went to the dust found that when he looked back inadvertently, he suddenly looked back, the road was still that way, but his heart was a little warmer.

What I can feel most is my mother, her face, her eyes and her tears.

Still living, so persistent, so hard. Time is a ship, it comes and goes, and it never comes back. Like the road at this moment, what's wrong with taking these storms that make people strong and forge ahead? I like a hungry person who is used to getting up early and going to bed late. After all, such tranquility is freedom and the growth of a poet's life.

Also, I have the freedom to say goodbye to Cambridge quietly, without taking away a cloud. All the years are right and wrong. May this be just a new beginning, and youth will be happy and peaceful forever.

It's a good choice. Here you are. Take it.