I’d forgotten I was once a backpacker,

I had imagined saving up enough private money in these years, With packs on my back, I tread the southern skies; camera in hand, off to Antarctica, Moved in silence before the high mountains and flowing water, Hmm? Hmm!

NICE！ It’s a wonderful way to fall, This is the most, most, most graceful aging, But the pandemic shattered my plans, Shattered this naive face, Rolling through these years of age, round and round,

Time slips by; quietly wait for the blooming season.

Even though I’m a psycho,

Gazing at the sky,

Looking at the gentleness laid in the drawer, returned unaccepted,

Watching the dim shadow walking under the streetlight,

Perhaps,

The only things I can take away are myself and my temper.