At that time, the girl we saw together

Time flies, like a gust of wind. Time flies. We are all living separately. We belong to different worlds and have different dreams. You are still beautiful, but I like the memories. It is so real and so illusory. I was once so happy, how could I forget it? When I pass by the door, I look at you from the window. I watch you chatting, watching you sleep, watching you go to class. I watch you busy, and I see the origin of your absence. I like to look at you not far or near. I like to look at you quietly alone. I like to read your name, I like to taste your name, I like to let people around me know you, I like to remember you alone, I like this kind of love that the sky is far and wide. The wind is turning over the weeds, and the clouds present the unknown. Behind the wind is the wind, and above the clouds are the clouds. I stand at the origin, and all the memories blow so real, and the reflections are so unreal. How many stories can a gust of wind tell, how many secrets can be hidden by a cloud, memories are just thoughts, they will not be reflected as reality. Your happy expression makes me want to cry. Who else will remember you? Who else will be remembered by you? Is the person being recalled also remembering? Your lonely figure makes me want to cry. Guard memories into beliefs. I believe that memories will be as immortal as luminous stones.