Life is like a dream, just memory left. It is cold and warm. Memory is stored disconnectedly. We just can share the segment, whatever is beautiful as water flowing, which finally are made specimen by us. Our happiness will extend by making a specimen for ourselves.

History is only the result of the mixing of public culture and attention. Ourselves' story and past things are not history but are old things. The past things are the private mark. They are disappeared from storage. Even if the public, they will also be a secret.

Time has another way to count which is superposing, iteration and extending. In our life, time becomes a pronoun of things and becomes our memory code, so we can get ourselves past secret and public history.

Counting, which is keeping running secretly is waiting in searching exact result. Eventually, this is counting in certain things, and this ruins people's confidence of self-determination but starts to count.

We are finding hope in the count. When all of the things can't count, we only wait. Unknown become our strong energy, and unknown start to extend, and start to propagate-fantasy, hope, expectation......