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In the long river of time, there may be a history that records your yesterday. That history is stored in our minds, which we call memory.

In my memory, there is a word called "bridge". I don't know when it formed in my memory, began to sprout and thrive. I don't want to know and I don't need to know.

The word "bridge" is both familiar and unfamiliar to me. Familiar and unfamiliar lines are intertwined, which makes me confused and I don't know where to start.

An incomplete video has started playing. ...

Came to a stone bridge that cannot be called a bridge. It is beyond recognition, but its unique charm still attracts me. This used to be my childhood paradise. There are cracks in its bridge. Looking at those clear cracks, my heart began to ache faintly, but this feeling was only a flash.

On both sides of the bridge, there are many trees, which are beautiful with the stone bridge. Running water under the bridge, fish swimming in the water. Stone bridges, trees, rivers and fish form a perfect picture, which makes people have to be moved and cheered.

A lot of dirt has accumulated on the bridge deck, and some weeds have grown on it. It seems that no one has walked on it for a long time. ...

This bridge has made me unable to find my old feelings. Everything has disappeared in the long river of time with my memory. ...

Perhaps, I will never know why I feel this way about such a stone bridge, and I don't want to know. Let everything go away with time.

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