The community stagnates without the impulse of the individual. The impulse dies away without the sympathy of the community.
每天早上我醒来时,躺着的不是我的床,住的不是我的房子,过着不是我自己的人生。
世界充满了混乱,但在那混乱之中,有美存在。
Sometimes the only way out is through.
唯一能阻止你的人是你自己。
The stories of our people are the stories of the land, and they are one and the same.