You say memory, what is memory? Memory is buried in the bottom of my heart, unwilling to forget but will remember when inadvertently.
It's just weird that we're used to putting our memories there, ignoring them, and then accumulating them.
It's just that memories are like building blocks, built layer by layer from the past, and the higher the building, the most fear is that the bottom of the pot will be pulled from the bottom, and everything will collapse.
What a beautiful imagination: if there is a medium in our memory, like water, that allows me to go back to the past, and only a small excuse can fulfill the memory of the past, how wonderful it would be.
I am alone, but I once had a wife, but I can't be with me forever; I also once had children, married with others, and left me alone. Today, put the cup, pour the wine, and the two glasses are full, and invite the bright moon to witness, this time is impermanent....
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