When I was young， Nostalgia was a tiny stamp， Me on this side， Mother on the other side.
When I grew up， Nostalgia was a narrow boat ticket， Me on this side， Bride on the other side.
But later on， Nostalgia was a low， low grave， Me on the outside， Mother on the inside.
And at present， Nostalgia becomes a shallow strait， Me on this side， Mainland on the other side.
