Life is a fleeting moment in a long river of time. Humans do everything possible to pursue everlasting life, but they never expect that, in fact, as long as they slow down, calm down, and live in the moment, then life will naturally become long and long.
When I didn't write for magazines before, I didn't know that in this line of work, the time came in advance. January has already prepared manuscripts for March or even April. I was terrified while reading on the manuscript forum. My year is not over yet, and I haven't made any achievements. The work of others over there has passed for a year, and it is approaching the end of the year. The years are here, and they are flying by at an unattainable speed. How can people not panic?
The length of time is originally defined by human beings themselves. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, divided into four seasons and twelve months. But here, people are always chasing after each other, to see who can make a year into a day. The ancestors knew that if ten years were fixed as a year, would we still be so anxious?
The days don't have to be passed, they can only be used to chase. I accidentally walked into this door and fell into such a turbulent vortex. The numbers on calendars and clocks can only represent the past, because what is to be done today is already in the future. It is spring, but my subordinates are already doing autumn things non-stop.
There is nothing to be happy about, the gratuitous youth is just a lot shorter than others. What's the use of walking in front, time is left behind, it's just futile to age your heart and face.