The days have been passing too fast lately.

It’s coming fast—before I can react, time slips away.

Have really neglected the DSLR’s feelings. Seems I need to find a place for a romantic meal and a pleasant chat.

Every time I fly, once climbing above 8,000 meters, that feeling carries the body into a void—the brain’s computing settles, everything empties out, and I can think over those runaway emotions. Anxiety, helplessness, excitement, rambling, escape, desire—all the big shots take a seat at a round table and begin a review meeting.

「 Psycho. 」

Youth is quite abstract—in youth a psycho, in middle age a ruffian instead.

In our teens, we were as bland as plain water—every day pretty much the same.

In your twenties, you say we have no money now, how about buying a box of instant noodles to get through the month.

On some day in your thirties, you ask about youth? It was all fed to the dogs—there’s none left, only the days ticking by.

It’s the end of August. I wonder how many rapeseed flowers are left in Menyuan. One flower blooms for a tree, one smile meets a soulmate.

Time dances with the wind. At 16 I didn’t send you flowers; at 26 I didn’t give you a house; I hope at 38 I can treat you to a glass of Moutai. At 42, the ten-year plan arrives—by then we’ll tell our own one-of-a-kind stories, your words and mine, the most cherished thing to me. The remaining life fills in a blank: pick a city, take one person, hold one love.

I said I only write code, that I don’t produce wordy garbage, let alone poetry. But maybe that will change—I’ll make sentences and poems with your name.

People who live near the sea, oh no, it’s really just somewhat near the sea—a few kilometers away.

Living in my own place, woken by birds every day, looking out the window at playing children and idle elders—the wind that passes through marks the change between two seasons, always stirring or sobering me up.

Yesterday’s rights and wrongs, today should forget; there are plenty of good views. The sunset is infinitely beautiful—unexpected encounters, I hope so.

Off the plane, my younger brother came to pick me up. Only then did I realize that for a long time, my heart had been hollow. Escaping is a disease, a compound—what it buys is mostly silence.

That subtle openness helps us grow; for wandering, we occasionally mail off half a trace of longing.

A few lonely stars hang in the night sky. Just like life—idle and scattered.

A shapeless longing, never straying far.

The young me didn’t want to go home, but would still watch the stars all night.

Many times, we are quite straightforward.

You didn’t look back, I didn’t hold on.

「 Damn, in the blink of an eye I’m almost 40. 」

『 Yeah, have you figured out what’s next? 』

「 Yeah, the typhoon is coming. 」

『 Yeah, the typhoon is here. 』

I look up, the crisp sea breeze blowing in my face.

END

Nanning Wuxu International Airport