I swiped my phone, paused for a while, and thought about something.
The first thing that comes to my mind is that I haven't played for more than half a year. The last time I touched it twice at a fun sports meeting, I made two of three shots, the highest hit rate in recent years.
On the evening of the New Year's Eve, I restored the previous space log, which means "being a new person". That day I felt like doing another ten-year review, starting in 2010. The summary will probably talk about study and travel, about love and work, about the mountains of the Qinling Mountains and the seas of Iceland, and about people around you and people far away.
I'll go on talking about a bad life, discussing the wear and tear of willpower, and come to the conclusion that I haven't become a better person. As a master of self-soothing, I'll of course add a pep talk at the end, reminding myself that it's never too late.
Before I could write this paragraph, someone from far away jumped out. He jumped out of the cover of 81 points magazine, jumped out of the lively cement court in high school, jumped out from the text live broadcast peeked in class, and cheered from the dormitory. Or the sound of lamentation, from the computer screen playing the retirement battle, from the autobiographical animation that actually won the Oscar, from the video teaching my daughter's basketball skills, from the news I least want to see. Jump out and yell at me:
"Go play, learn, do what you're supposed to do, make them better, and never stop.
Forever, don't fuck, stop! "
Yes, who knows more about love and persistence than you? Thank you for the precious treasure you left, we do have something to fight for, it is there, and I don't think we will stop.
Finally, I hope that no matter where you are, there will be basketball with you. This is my only, most sincere blessing.
Bye now.
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