Time is the best time for us to meet.

If memory were truly a city, then it would be a mound of earth erected for each heartwarming moment, a place of tears and remembrance. With each final visit, in that city, seeing my own footprints and those of those who walked alongside me, hearing the long-lost laughter, all the events connected to that era would turn into a cloud of dust, carried by the wind. Memories wouldn't stay still; in the moment the dust swirls, tears inevitably stream down my face. In

those distant places where the storms of life have passed, there's always a road that can't be retraced. And those faces, their outlines blurred, even I dare not recognize them. Yet I remember those bright, heart-pounding days, how generous and how patient I was in my youth! My back gleamed in the sunlight, sweat radiating heat; all my efforts were for the promise I made to myself: no regrets, no resentment, no debts owed!

Time was our best encounter!

In that city, where dust flies everywhere, in places of despondency, the faintly visible footprints become an indelible memory. Fate has decreed that some people and some things are destined to be lost forever, never to return. Those warm yet bittersweet days lie there forever, like dust; I thought that if I didn't disturb them, they would lie there quietly and peacefully. Is it possible that being separated by distance will bring happiness to each other? If we meet again, we can still laugh and talk, still speak poetically about experiences weathered by time. Thinking about it this way, isn't it a good ending? In

one's life, there will come a day when the shy smile of the past becomes a secret of bygone years; there will come a person left behind at the dusty alleyway of that year. And I, stubbornly holding back my tears, hide my secrets in the silence of the rest of my life. A heartfelt old song has been sung in my heart for many years, a process of reconciling with the past, all while feigning indifference.

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Time is the best time for us to meet.

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