She repeated it over and over again.

Dancers and writers are actually connected by a thread. What is the shape of spring, summer, autumn and winter? The tree hanging on the neck is the soul of free flight, what is bound by the rope is destiny, and what is covered by the soil is ashes. But there is another spring, summer, autumn and winter. Repetition is the soul of her dance, so there are hugs, and there are falls, and then hugs, and then falls. In the end, she left, and leaving was the start of another life. She is alive because she says keep dancing, otherwise she will lose herself.

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