We still don't know the name of the flower we saw that day. The disappearance of Mianma stopped everyone's time and memory at that moment. Even though time has passed and the younger ones have grown up, they have not been able to make the gears of memory spin.
Suddenly one day, perhaps it was him, she, it appeared, breaking this delicate balance, rushing in unstoppably, willingly or reluctantly, the time that stopped began to flow.
The flower name is an animation that can poke tears, probably because we have all experienced it and cherished that time away. It is well preserved in a corner of memory, quietly and low-key.
Those times that stop are relative, somewhere, something, someone. In my memory, I drew you closer to what I wanted, then sealed it up, and opened it again after a long time, as if it was the same as it used to be. people and things.
Does time stop flowing like this? As if nothing has changed, in fact, nothing has changed.
I couldn't sleep, I wrote these things blindly, and a lot of things flashed in my mind, and I couldn't catch them all.
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