For me, in the 50 years of spring, summer, autumn, and winter, the flowers bloomed, and I never left, and followed each other. When I was young, I chased her with all my heart, and she always left me far behind; when I was young, I Walking hand in hand with her, tenderness, bitterness, and dreams echoing each other's hearts; in middle age, we had each other, lovesickness, love, nostalgia, and lingering in strong memories; in old age, I unknowingly ran in front of the year, although I have slowed down time and again, once I look back, the year is like a shadow on me, I can't pull it off, I can't get rid of it. Since then, I no longer love the year, love the year, think about the year, I start to fear the year, and even hate the year. The text is intended to show:. ['The year is a hungry chase, a dream of sorrowful flowers.', 'The year is a true nostalgia, a solid relationship.', "When she is more and more ignorant of the year, she will follow you, and if she doesn't pay attention, she will suddenly stand in front of you, blocking your way and tripping your feet.", "Years, as you chase after me, let's go to the old district. Running against the year also verifies the flow and quality of our lives."]