As the last wisp of cloud drifts by, all that remains is the haunting beauty of twilight. Leaving no trace behind, one approaches the distance, gazing at the mirage, standing still in the far-off horizon. Ethereal and hollow, yet imagined with such vivid reality, it vanishes without a trace, like a vacuous dream. With a heart carved out of emptiness, passing through cities, one remains calm, ethereal as water. Though lingering in the loss, at this moment, one listens to the cicadas as before, watching the flowers smile. Walking alone, casting fleeting shadows, at the edge of distant mountains, one is intoxicated, deeply intoxicated. Where your time is spent, that is where your achievements lie. Life offers many paths, each with its own brilliant story, yet not every path leads to a definitive ending. In this life, as long as the journey is taken, that is enough; we need not obsess over the destination. "At the end of the mountain and the water, I doubted there was no way; then, behind the willows and dark flowers, another village appeared." In this world, often, if the mountain does not turn, the water will flow through; if the water does not turn, the person must turn. If you love the wrong person, remember to let go; if you take the wrong path, remember to turn around.
