Coming unexpectedly, arriving as scheduled, are destined encounters. Identification is not destined to be a narrow fatalism, but a reverence for high probability and big data beyond human intelligence. Everyone lives in the details of minute by minute, and in the plot spliced together by the details, experiencing this only life, just like being born for no reason, and not knowing how to spend their lives, let alone which reason ends themselves at which time. The world is like a huge scene, providing possibilities and impossibilities for seven or eight billion people, and also giving stories and characters to all the people, some find it funny, some don't think it's fun. Then everyone has a bittersweet and bittersweet and a joy and sorrow, and then stubble after stubble iteratively replaced, and then the good deeds use the mouth of Buddhism to say that this is a small world, and there are still 3,000 worth pursuing. And then what? No more, because the time is up.
