一 在牛粪和稻草旁我们得以幸存

正午两点，49度，路上全是碎石子，颠簸。我们带上的 9 升水只剩下半瓶，沿途的车辆也寥寥无几，唯一的选择是前进。

这是阿塞拜疆，古波斯语里火的国度。

我们已经在这样的砾石路上骑行了3个小时。在这样的环境里，我们一小时就要喝掉 1.5 升的水。平日22码的速度在这里也只有6,7码。

我的叙利亚队友体力有点不支，提议休息一下。当然没问题，只不过最好能找到一片树荫。于是我们又花了整整半个小时，找到的最高的植物，也不过是刚过膝的草丛。

我们的水源已经耗尽。出于对队友安全的考虑，我们决定停下来，搭便车前往20公里意外的小镇 Bilasuvar。

过了20分钟，终于等来了第一辆大卡车。当我们用谷歌翻译介绍我们的处境的时候，司机不耐烦地摇了摇手，回到了驾驶室里轰下油门。

过了不到5分钟，第二辆卡车向我们驶来，但不管我们怎么招手，他们只是加速向前。

Fair，过了不久，第三辆车停了下来。司机摇下车窗，本以为他准备和我们交流，结果他拿出手机，按下自拍，摇上车窗，扬长而去。

我和队友的内心和肉体受到了双重打击。

这个时候我的队友越来越虚弱，对能搭便车的希望越来越小。

第四辆车停了下来，驾驶员走下了车。看到了我们的俄语翻译之后，他走回了驾驶室。

他的两个更加年长的朋友摇了摇头。

正当我们再次被失望打击的时候，这位年轻的司机走了回来，他说没问题，跟我走吧。

我不知道在过去发生的一秒钟他内心经历过怎样的选择，但当他和转身的那一刻，我看到了他眼睛里的坚定和善良。

当他打开集装箱门的一刹那，我们惊呆了：原来这个根本就不是装货的卡车，而是运牛的，地上全是牛粪和稻草，在高温的炙烤下有些熏人。

但这又何妨，上车不到5分钟，我的叙利亚队友就在无尽的颠簸中进入了梦乡。

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二 1 美元穿越 1 国家。

我来到了伊朗和中亚朝鲜 —— 土库曼斯坦的边境，1个人，兜里只剩下1美元现金，而我需要缴纳14美元的过境税才能入镜。

我是怎么沦落到现在这个处境的呢？600美元，为了让我的叙利亚队友安全回家，

我有许多的B计划，可是在伊朗的最后一个城市里，硬是一个中国人我也没有碰到，里面的外汇店也关门歇业，在来边境的火车上也没有一个外国游客，于是在账户里有着再多的钱此时也不管用。

来到边境，我假装听不懂什么叫做入境税，想凭此蒙混过关，当然，在类似朝鲜的国家里这套是行不通的。边检官员一派威严。

我回到查护照之前的等待室，把我的行囊放了个底朝天，想着当初自己聪明到在某个包包里放了救命钱。终于，我找到了30波黑马克。

如果你没有听说过波黑是什么地儿的话，土库曼斯坦的边检官员也没有听说过。他们拿着这两张货币东看西看了足足3分钟，最后还是说：“这个钱我们不接受。”

我又回到了之前的等待室，心里却完全不知道，我坐在角落里，不知道在下一个可以帮忙的外国游客来要等到多久；这里是两国的边境，只有1美元的我，连回到伊朗边境村庄的钱都不够。

我叹了口气，没想到我也有今天啊。早知道应多积累些旅行的经验，在进入伊朗前多带点美元现金，多放点救命钱。

可惜没如果。这个时候只有不知结果的等待。

我闭上了眼睛，没多久，旁边的一位土库曼斯坦大娘拍了拍我的肩，问我发生了什么事儿。

我知道她说不了英语，便手比划了14，和两个空空的裤包。

这时，她转过身去，走到了她的那一群朋友面前，介绍我的情况。在座的每一个大娘，不约而同的，拿出了自己的钱包，拿出了一美元，一美元，一美元。而这位一开始和我交流的大娘，从他们的手中集齐了我需要的14美元。

她走了过来，把这厚厚的，不知道折了多少次的一美元现金递给了我。

我拿着这笔钱，口中说着俄语的谢谢 spasiba, 也想问她的银行卡账户，想过了边境之后就把钱打给她。

她摇了摇手，把我推到了边检的窗口，期盼这次能成功。

这次平日里铁面无私的边检官员也有一点纳闷，想我这个中国人从哪儿变出了14美元。

他在我绿色的土库曼斯坦签证上盖上了一个红色的入境章。我拿着这本厚重的护照，用心掂量着它的分量。走回了等待室。我把我行囊里的伊朗和阿塞拜疆的食物都拿了出来，想以这种方式感谢她们。

她们只是象征性的拿了一点，说，“这些你路上要用。”她们把食物退给了我。

“欢迎来到土库曼斯坦”。她们和我挥了挥手。

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三 终于等到你

因为穿越8月的中亚沙漠实在太过危险，我把2人的单车从伊朗首都德黑兰寄到乌兹别克斯坦首都塔什干，独自一人乘火车穿越沙漠，在穿越了土库曼斯坦边境后，我准备和印度朋友在塔什干汇合。

到达塔什干的邮局之后，我傻眼了，两个自行车箱只到了1个。

我们和两国邮政多次确认，却没有一个解释。

这时，唯一继续前行的方式，就是在城里再买一辆自行车。

正当我和印度朋友在车店里选车的时候，店里的伙计递给了我一个电话。电话的另一头传出的中文着实吓了我一跳。过去的一个月我就没有见到几个中国人。

听到了我们的故事之后，电话的另一头邀请我们吃个晚饭。想到在异国他乡有同胞照应，我们也就欣然答应。

同胞开车来接我，餐桌上还有另外2位同胞。我们从伊斯坦布尔讲起，说道经过的每一个国家和风险。最后说到乌兹别克斯坦的时候，我们问他们是否知道附近靠谱的二手自行车市场。

这时，一位体形魁梧的同胞说，“你们明天到我店里随便挑一辆吧。”

我被这消息惊到：“这怎么好意思叔叔。我们是可以付钱的。”

“你知道为什么我们请你吃晚饭吗？这些年我待在乌兹别克斯坦，看到很多人骑行丝绸之路，法国的、德国的到我店里修车……看到他们，我希望有一天能遇到一个中国人。于是我给我店里的伙计说，如果看到中国人需要帮助的话，就给我打给电话。“

”今天我遇到了你。你们这么小就干了这么多事情，这辆车就当我对你们活动的支持。明天到我店里来，我的店不大，需要什么尽管拿。“

两天之后，我们骑着自行车，继续朝着祖国迈进。

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一路骑行过来，风景在变，心境在变，不变的是人们之间淳朴的，不求回报的善意。

旅行中这样的故事太多，尽管时常语言不同，宗教不同，国籍不同，但生而为人，大家都有困难，需要帮助的时候，当我们有能力的时候，举手之劳真的能雪中送炭。我们在丝路沿线人民的照料下，一公里，一公里的朝着家迈进。

这也是我在UWC学到的最重要的东西之一。人类正是因为这样的同情之心，才超越了动物的冷血和残酷，让我们能够齐心协力地面对困难，接受挑战。互相理解，互相关心，互相帮助。

一路骑行过来，我们从不感觉到孤独，因为一路上我们都与人们的善意为行。

也正是太多像土库曼大姨那般的善意，让我走得更远，让我能把这样的善意传递给更多的人。

(Sometimes, the kindness of the stranger makes you go further, and spread this caring further.)

波黑 - 莫斯塔尔

当照相馆老板在擦拭照片的时候，我问道，“90年代你在莫斯塔尔吗？”

“那个时候我在。”

“那个时候留在莫斯塔尔很危险吧。”

他说，“是的“，他指了指身上的制服，”那个时候莫斯塔尔里死的平民比士兵还要多。”

看着我好奇的目光，他继续讲述当时的情景：“那个时候莫斯塔尔缺饮用水。有时当送水的罐车来到站之后，波族的平民们一哄而上，却没想到城市另一边的克族狙击手开始射击，血和水混在了一起，在路上流淌。“

听到这里我不禁冒了一身冷汗，南斯拉夫时期情同手足的兄弟，在战争期间却变成你死我活的仇人。看到我脸上的错意他说，”让我给你看点东西。“

说完，他便带我来到了电脑前，打开了一个文件夹，写着1994.12.

在曾经的照片里，我看到老桥是如何被炸毁的，现在车水马龙的老城曾经是怎样的断壁残垣。瓦砾，血迹洒在石子路上，冲刷着这块有着五百年历史的土地。

我问他为什么其他人都想着出国，他却选择留在波黑整理这些照片，他说，现在有人想要篡改这些历史，而他想保存着这些记忆，让发生过的不再重演。我想，这不仅是他，也是许多经历过那段历史的人们共同的愿望。

知道我马上就要离开莫斯塔尔了，他把我感兴趣的战时照片冲洗下来送给了我，挥手道别。

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土耳其 - 伊斯坦布尔

我们握了握手，他穿着笔直的白色西装，眼睛炯炯有神。

简单的寒暄之后，我便对他的职业非常好奇，“你什么时候开始做起了一个喜剧演员呢？”

“2016年4月ISIS在土耳其进行恐怖袭击，他们想在人们之间散布恐惧。但是我想对他们说，’f**k you’, 我想和他们做相反的事情，我想让人们笑。 ”从16年开始，ISIS接连把魔爪伸向土耳其，伊斯坦布尔的旅游景区，商业区，机场接连发生恐怖袭击，人民因此惶恐不安，好友说那时街上的人少了许多。

”当喜剧演员是你的梦想吗？“

”是的，我的梦想是把所有的那些 ‘motherfuckers’ 聚集在一起，土耳其人，库尔德人，阿拉伯人…让他们每个人都笑起来，放下心中的包袱，然后让他们开始对话。”

“你觉得这个梦想能够实现吗？”因为在现在的土耳其，更多的是或许不是联合，而是分裂。库尔德人和土耳其人，世俗派和传统伊斯兰派，不同人民被天然分类，他们之间的剑拔弩张在民族主义的煽动下愈演愈烈。

他一笑，看着窗外伊斯坦布尔的灯火阑珊，双手合在一起，漏出了左手腕上的手表。

”当你为了你的梦想而活的时候，你就已经开始实现你的梦想了。我的第10期话剧下周就要开始。”

他匆匆离去，我们握手道别。他的手细腻，却充满力量。

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格鲁吉亚 - 巴统

我来到这家咖啡馆，气氛有点不平常，屋子里除了音乐很难听到其他声音。看见一个人用手语和其他人打视频电话，我似乎明白了什么。

找了一个桌子坐了下来，老板走了过来问我要什么。点了一杯果汁之后，我想知道这家咖啡馆背后的故事。

“老板，为什么你的咖啡店里这么安静啊？”

“因为下午生意不太多，我的这些员工都是残疾人，有些人是哑巴，所以就没有怎么说话的声音。”

“当初你是怎么想到要开这家咖啡馆的？”

“因为格鲁吉亚社会的刻板印象，这些残疾人只能呆在家里，很难在外面找到工作。”

“那你一开始是怎么想到要帮助这些残疾人？”

”我曾经在一个戏剧团里表演，而有一天我们的观众是盲人。那是一个挑战，但却是一个好的挑战，因为从那之后我和这些残疾人有了紧密的联系。我意识到去支持他们是多么的重要。我们都只有一条命，但世界并不对每个人都一样好。有些人有更多的机会，有些人没有。这是不公平的。盲人，聋人，哑人，都是人。为什么其他人都对我很好而，他们只能呆在自己的家里。从那之后，我就想和他们一起工作。”

“建好这个咖啡馆一定是你的愿望吧。”

她笑了，“是的，现在这个愿望实验了，但我还想要更多，我想要做更多的宣传，让更多的人来这个自由的空间。现在的格鲁吉亚社会仍然有这个刻板印象，觉得咖啡馆里面的员工是残疾人，那么顾客也都是残疾人。我想要破除这样的成见。”

“另外，我想给咖啡馆外面装一个雨棚，这样下雨的时候我们也可以利用外面的空间了。”

说完，她望向了屋外。

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一个国家的历史，政治和社会环境塑造着其中的每一个人，他们的人生因社会的变革而改写；有些人选择从众，听从命运的安排，但与此同时，也有一些人，有着西西弗斯般的不屈，一种即使挫折当道却迎难直上的勇气与执著。

有人问旅行的目的是什么？

为了不同地域的繁花似锦、绿草如茵

抑或是在繁忙的日程里有一份片刻的宁静

追寻着诗和远方在现实的投影

又或在异域文化中丈量自身的价值体系

对于我来说，我更愿意听听旅途上那些平凡的故事吧。

有些故事，我想的着结尾，却猜不到开头。因为我们所处的社会环境实在太过不同，以至于对最根本的价值判断我们都可能相左，对生命，对爱情，对自由，对使命。

而每个人的人生都是一本书，通过听他们的故事，通过知道他们对人生的解读和定义，我也在内心反问自己的选择，自己的价值取向。见的人越多，听的故事越多，我们也在撰写自己的传记，在他乡的花开花落中，看到自身的云卷云舒。

社会用他的千万支双手塑造着其中的个体，而每一个人也在塑造着社会的格局。两者之间的关系，我想， 我需要用更长的时间去回答这个生命的命题。

(This article is the direct Google Translate of "人们的滴水之恩让我们不断前进")

We survived by cow dung and straw

At noon, 49 degrees, the road was full of gravel and bumps. We only have half a bottle of 9 liters of water with us, and there are very few vehicles along the way. The only option is to go forward.

This is Azerbaijan, a country of fire in ancient Persian.

We have been riding this gravel road for 3 hours. In such an environment, we would drink 1.5 liters of water in one hour. The speed of 22 yards on weekdays is only 6,7 yards here.

My Syrian teammate is a bit out of energy and proposes a break. Of course no problem, but it is better to find a shade. So we spent another half an hour, and the tallest plant we found was nothing more than the grass just above our knees.

Our water is depleted. For the safety of our teammates, we decided to stop and hitchhiked to the unexpected 20 km town of Bilasuvar.

After 20 minutes, I finally waited for the first big truck. When we introduced our situation with Google Translate, the driver shook his hand impatiently and returned to the cab to blast down the throttle.

After less than 5 minutes, a second truck came towards us, but no matter how we beckoned, they just accelerated forward.

Fair, shortly after, the third car stopped. The driver rolled down the window, thinking he was ready to communicate with us, but he took out his cell phone, pressed the selfie, shook the window, and walked away.

My teammate and I suffered a double blow in my heart and body.

At this time, my teammates were getting weaker and weaker, and there was less and less hope for a free ride.

The fourth car stopped and the driver got out of the car. After seeing our Russian translator, he walked back to the cab.

His two older friends shook his head.

Just when we were hit again by disappointment, the young driver walked back and he said no problem, just follow me.

I don't know what choices he experienced in the past second, but when he turned around, I saw the firmness and kindness in his eyes.

The moment he opened the container door, we were stunned: it turned out that this truck was not a loading truck at all, but for cattle transport. The ground was full of cow dung and straw, which was a bit smoky under the heat.

But why not, less than 5 minutes after getting on the bus, my Syrian teammates went to sleep in endless bumps.

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$ 1 crosses 1 country.

I came to the border between Iran and Central Asia and North Korea-Turkmenistan. One person had only $ 1 in cash in my pocket, and I needed to pay a $ 14 transit tax to enter the mirror.

How did I fall into this situation? $ 600, to get my Syrian teammates home safely,

I have a lot of plan B, but in the last city of Iran, I did not even meet a Chinese. The foreign exchange shop inside was closed and there was no foreign tourist on the train coming to the border, so I kept it in my account. No amount of money will work at this time.

When I came to the border, I pretended that I didn't understand what is called the immigration tax. I wanted to confuse the customs. Of course, in a country like North Korea, this set would not work. The border inspection officials are dignified.

I went back to the waiting room before I checked my passport and put my luggage in the sky, thinking that I was smart enough to put life-saving money in a certain bag. Finally, I found 30 waves of black marks.

If you haven't heard of where Bosnia and Herzegovina is, neither have the border inspection officials of Turkmenistan. They looked at the two currencies for three minutes and finally said, "We don't accept this money."

I went back to the waiting room before, but I did n’t know at all. I was sitting in a corner, and I did n’t know how long the next foreign tourist who could help me to come here. This is the border between the two countries. Money to the Iranian border villages is not enough.

I sighed, but I did not expect that I have today. I knew that I should accumulate more travel experience, bring more US dollar cash, and save more life-saving money before entering Iran.

It's a shame. At this time there is only the wait of unknown results.

I closed my eyes, and it didn't take long before an Aunt Turkmenistan patted me on the shoulder and asked me what happened.

I knew she couldn't speak English, so I made a 14 gesture and two empty pants bags.

At this moment, she turned around and walked to her group of friends to introduce me. Every auntie present here, invariably, took out his wallet, and took out one dollar, one dollar, one dollar. The old lady who talked to me at the beginning collected all the 14 dollars I needed from them.

She came over and handed me the thick one dollar cash that I didn't know how many times I had folded.

I took the money, and I spoke Russian in thank you, spasiba. I also wanted to ask her bank card account. After thinking about the border, I called her money.

She shook her hand and pushed me to the window of the border inspection, hoping for success this time.

On this weekday, the unselfish border inspection officials were also a little puzzled, thinking where the Chinese I changed from $ 14.

He stamped a red entry stamp on my green Turkmenistan visa. I held this heavy passport and weighed it with my heart. Walked back to the waiting room. I took out the food from Iran and Azerbaijan in my bag, and I want to thank them in this way.

They just took a little symbolically and said, "You need to use these on the road." They returned the food to me.

"Welcome to Turkmenistan." They waved with me.

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Three finally waiting for you

Because crossing the Central Asian desert in August is too dangerous, I sent two people's bicycles from the Iranian capital Tehran to Uzbekistan's capital Tashkent. I crossed the desert by train alone. After crossing the Turkmenistan border, I was going to make friends with Indian Convergence in Tashkent.

After arriving at the post office in Tashkent, I was dumbfounded that only two bike boxes arrived.

We and the two countries have confirmed many times without an explanation.

At this time, the only way to continue is to buy another bike in the city.

Just as my Indian friend and I chose a car in a car shop, the guy in the shop handed me a call. The Chinese on the other side of the phone really startled me. I haven't seen a few Chinese people in the past month.

After hearing our story, the other end of the phone invited us to dinner. The thought of compatriots in other countries, we readily agreed.

My fellow drove to pick me up, and there were two other fellows at the table. Let's start with Istanbul and talk about every country and risk we pass. Finally, when talking about Uzbekistan, we asked them if they knew the reliable second-hand bicycle market nearby.

At this time, a burly fellow said, "You can pick one in my shop tomorrow."

I was stunned by the news: "How sorry this is Uncle. We can pay."

"Do you know why we invited you to dinner? I have stayed in Uzbekistan these years and saw a lot of people riding the Silk Road. French and Germans came to my store to repair cars ... I see them and hope that one day I could meet a Chinese. So I said to my guy in the shop, if I saw that the Chinese needed help, just call me. "

"I met you today. You've done so many things at such a young age. This car is my support for your activities. Come to my store tomorrow. My store is not big and you need to take whatever you want."

Two days later, we rode our bicycles and continued to march towards the motherland.

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Riding all the way, the scenery is changing, the mood is changing, what remains unchanged is the honesty among people, not asking for reward.

There are too many such stories in travel. Although we often have different languages, religions, and nationalities, we are all born with difficulties. When we need help, when we have the ability, we can really give away charity in the snow. Under the care of the people along the Silk Road, we are moving towards our home one kilometer and one kilometer.

This is also one of the most important things I learned at UWC. It is because of this sympathy that human beings have surpassed the cold blood and cruelty of animals, allowing us to work together to face difficulties and accept challenges. Understand each other, care for each other, and help each other.

Riding all the way, we never feel lonely, because we all act with the goodwill of people along the way.

It is just too much goodwill like that of Aunt Turkmenistan, which has allowed me to go further and allow me to pass such goodwill to more people.

(Sometimes, the kindness of the stranger makes you go further, and spread this caring further.)

(This article is the direct Google Translate of "旅行的目的")

Bosnia and Herzegovina-Mostar

When the photo studio owner was wiping the photos, I asked, "Are you in Mostar in the 1990s?"

"I was there then."

"It was dangerous to stay in Mostar then."

He said, "Yes." He pointed to the uniform on his body. "At that time, there were more civilians dead than soldiers in Mostar."

Looking at my curious eyes, he continued to tell the scene at that time: "At that time Mostar was short of drinking water. Sometimes when the tanker delivering water came to the station, the civilians of the Bo nationality rushed up, but did not expect another city. Croat snipers on one side started firing, blood and water mixed together, flowing on the road. "

When I heard this, I could not help but sweat a lot. Brothers who were brothers and brothers in Yugoslavia during the war became your deadly enemies during the war. Seeing the wrong impression on my face, he said, "Let me show you something."

After that, he took me to the computer, opened a folder, and wrote 1994.12.

In the previous photos, I saw how the old bridge was blown up, and now the old city is full of ruins. Rubble and blood spilled on the stone road, washing this 500-year-old land.

I asked him why everyone else wanted to go abroad, but he chose to stay in Bosnia and arrange the photos. He said that now someone wants to tamper with the history, and he wants to keep these memories so that what has happened will not repeat itself. I think this is not only his, but also the common wish of many people who have experienced that history.

Knowing that I was leaving Mostar soon, he washed out the wartime photos I was interested in and gave them to me, waving goodbye.

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Istanbul, Turkey

We shook hands. He was wearing a straight white suit with eyes full of energy.

After a brief greeting, I was very curious about his profession, "When did you start to be a comedian?"

"ISIS launched a terrorist attack in Turkey in April 2016. They want to spread fear among people. But I want to say to them, 'f ** k you', I want to do the opposite of them, and I want to make people laugh. "From 16 years ago, ISIS extended its devil's claws to Turkey, Istanbul's tourist attractions, business districts, and airports. There were successive terrorist attacks, and the people were apprehensive. Friends said that there were fewer people on the street.

"Is it your dream to be a comedian?"

"Yes, my dream is to bring all those‘ motherfuckers ’together, Turks, Kurds, Arabs ... make each of them laugh, let go of their burdens, and then let them start a conversation.”

"Do you think this dream can be realized?" Because in Turkey now, it is more likely that it is not union but division. Kurds and Turks, secular and traditional Islam, different people are naturally classified, and the tension between them has intensified under the incitement of nationalism.

He smiled, looking at the lights in Istanbul outside the window, his hands together, leaking the watch on his left wrist.

"When you live for your dreams, you have already realized your dreams. My 10th drama will start next week."

He left in a hurry, and we shook hands and said goodbye. His hands are delicate but powerful.

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Georgia-Batumi

When I came to this cafe, the atmosphere was a bit unusual, and it was difficult to hear other sounds except music in the room. Seeing someone make a video call with sign language and others, I seem to understand something.

I found a table and sat down. The boss came over and asked me what I wanted. After ordering a glass of juice, I want to know the story behind this cafe.

"Boss, why is your coffee shop so quiet?"

"Because business is not too much in the afternoon, these employees of mine are all disabled and some are dumb, so there is no voice to say."

"How did you think about opening this cafe?"

"Because of the stereotypes of Georgian society, these disabled people can only stay at home and find it difficult to find work outside."

"So how did you first think about helping these disabled people?"

"I used to perform in a theater company, and one day our audience was blind. That was a challenge, but it was a good challenge because I have been in close contact with these disabled people since then. I realized How important it is to support them. We all have one life, but the world is not as good for everyone. Some people have more opportunities, some people don't. This is unfair. Blind, deaf, dumb, It ’s all people. Why are everyone nice to me and they can only stay in their own homes. Since then, I want to work with them. ”

"It must be your wish to build this cafe."

She smiled, "Yes, now this desire has been experimented, but I want more, I want to do more publicity, let more people come to this free space. Georgian society still has this stereotype The impression is that the employees in the cafe are disabled, so the customers are also disabled. I want to break this stereotype. "

"Also, I want to put a canopy outside the cafe so that we can use the outside space when it rains."

After that, she looked outside.

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The history, politics, and social environment of a country shape each of them, and their lives are rewritten by social changes; some people choose to follow the fate, but at the same time, there are some people who have Sisyphus Unyielding, a kind of courage and persistence to overcome difficulties even when frustrated.

Someone asked what was the purpose of the trip?

For the flowers and grass in different areas

Or is there a moment of peace in the busy schedule?

Pursuing poetry and distant projections in reality

Or measure your own value system in foreign cultures

For me, I would rather listen to those ordinary stories on the journey.

Some stories, I think about the end, but can't guess the beginning. Because the social environment in which we live is so different that we may all be at odds with our most fundamental value judgments, life, love, freedom, and mission.

And everyone's life is a book. By listening to their stories, and by knowing their interpretation and definition of life, I also ask my own choices and values ​​in my heart. The more people we see and the more stories we hear, we are also writing our own biographies, and seeing our own clouds and clouds in the flowers and flowers of other places.

Society uses its tens of millions of hands to shape the individuals in it, and each person is also shaping the pattern of society. The relationship between the two, I think, I need to take longer to answer this proposition of life.