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Collecting Memories of the Passing Years |
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As time flows like water and life moves like a song, the ticking sound fades
away and moments slip away. I stretch out my hand, hoping to hold onto them,
even if only for a moment.
The first memories of carefree days are filled with joy. We played with our
friends, basking in the adoring gaze of our families. We ran through the gentle
breeze, swayed the willow branches, and watched rainbows after the rain. In the
memories of those moments, the smiles of our friends shone like blooming
flowers. I treasure those memories deeply, like a collector cherishing their
first treasure.
Then we went to school with our backpacks, surrounded by warmth and the sound of
books. We dashed across the playground, our pens dancing on paper, and our busy
lives were filled with countless beautiful moments. With so many companions and
guides, we embarked on the journey of life from autumn to summer. The red notice
and red graduation certificate marked the beginning and the end. But the
companions we met at the banquet of life remained there forever. The memories of
school, the purest, most unforgettable, warmest, and most joyful moments, can
never be erased.
I try to hold onto the fragments of life and memories. I try to collect the
memories of the passing years. Life is like a long road made up of countless
fragments of memories, and I hope to turn them into small pieces that can
accompany me to faraway places. I can look back on them often, making the
passing years seem to linger beside me for a while. And for something as warm
yet indifferent as time, that's enough.
I reach out my hand to hold onto the memories of the passing years, collecting
them in a museum called "heart." I will keep it open for a long time, refusing
to let go even as I grow old.
I will never let go. |
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