At every site in life, we always stop and look in a certain direction. There is indescribable bitterness there, as well as indescribable joy.
A street corner is filled with many stories. Maybe this street will be demolished, but those stories can no longer go back, but they will stay where they are forever. The wind that night came to my face and was slightly cool; the dust that night fell quietly and lightly. The sound of the electric car and the throbbing hearts of the two people echoed in the dim light and shadow. I don't know if it is the cold night or the cold wind. The trembling hands are holding tightly. You are it, and I am too, but I dare not admit it.
Since then, the nights there have been really desolate. Even though the street lights are bright, it is so silent that it is sad. The evening breeze is still there, and the dust has fallen, but everything is new, and the love of that night has passed. Every time I pass by alone, I just look back and miss it. I hope that after many years, I can feel relieved.
I have to go back and take a look at the road I have traveled, even if the evening breeze that once blew is no longer there, even if the dust that fell on my hair has gone... because I once stopped here, looked up, watched, and sighed.
