I find myself writing less and less. After reading so much, I feel that no matter what kind of emotion I have, someone has already written about it, and I will never be able to write anything as brilliant as that in my entire life.

Didn't Maupassant say that the significance of exploring writing lies in finding the most suitable nouns, adjectives, and verbs? In that case, sharing emotions can also be done by finding the most suitable passage, song, or movie.

It's been getting dark earlier lately, and for some reason, I've been thinking about my younger days. Life was like a wind chime hanging from the eaves in summer, crisp and clear. The glass was bright, and the oranges were brilliant. Now, I feel like a pebble thrown into a small lake in the forest—a splash, which counts as making a sound, with echoes rippling out one after another.

The noise cancellation on the new generation of AirPods has improved again. Turning it on amidst the noise creates an even greater sense of detachment; I can't even hear my own footsteps. This year, I've barely used any other music apps; Apple Music has become the one I use the most. You see, once a person realizes they have grown up, they immediately realize they are getting old. How boring is that?

Suddenly, I want to go to the beach. Why don't we just go this weekend~