I'm back. I walked through alleys and street corners, pushed open the courtyard gate, huh, why is the ground covered in sand and gravel? I remember the courtyard used to be paved with cement. I looked up and saw that the main door of the house was closed. The walls under the eaves were covered with a type of green vine that I didn't recognize, with scattered blue and white flowers. There was also a buzzing sound. Oh, it's bees. There was a tree in the corner of the wall, covered in white flowers, and a large group of bees were busy around it. Is it spring now? I always thought it was autumn. I remember when I was walking back, it was autumn in the city. The leaves of the French plane trees on both sides of the street had already started to fall. Did I leave the city and go through a whole winter until spring to return to my hometown? Did I remember it wrong? Everything in the courtyard is different from before, or did I enter the wrong door? The appearance and number of the courtyard gate haven't changed at all. Suddenly, a wave of panic surged up, followed by a flash of thought: I have lost some memories, yes, that's probably it. I urgently searched in my mind, and blank spaces passed by on the timeline of time. I vaguely remembered the people I had contact with before leaving, a woman leaning against the railing of a crowded street, occasionally turning her face to say something to me, her eyes bright with a smile, and a subtle and mysterious meaning. It was evening, and the dark red sunset was disappearing behind her, accompanied by a crimson sunset glow... Then we walked side by side under the streetlights, and fireworks bloomed in the sky like dandelions... Also, I noticed that people on the street used to not wear masks, but now... I don't know the reason for this...
I may have forgotten a lot, including who I am. In fact, even without amnesia, I may not necessarily understand who I am. Therefore, the urgent matter is not to figure out who I am, but rather what I should do next and where I should go. I hesitated in front of the door hidden by the green vines, afraid to push it open. I don't know how long it has been since I last came back, whether the people inside still remember me, whether they can still recognize me.