In the vast universe, the birth and death of a galaxy is just a momentary mottled streamer.
Looking up at the starry sky, there is always a kind of sadness that the ending is doomed, where will you and me be after thousands of years? The home country, the fire of civilization, the earth, are but a speck of dust in the deep space.
A moment in the starry sky, a thousand years in the world.
Insect Ming’s life is only autumn, and you and I are fighting over it.
What is at the end of deep space?
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