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The city after the rain, the roadside seat, it has been empty, I stalled the time, you at that moment, suddenly remembered whom.

Taiwan . Kenting

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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,

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Stand by the Jinan River, and spread my arms.

When you are finding a way home,it does not mean you have reached the end of the road,rather, it is a reminder that it is time for us to take a turn.

Now, when we drink,and clink the glasses,we hear but the sounds of them breaking.

In the talk and laughter,who would recall with nostalgia the place we desert with a broken heart?

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This sunset glow,

Is the ten thousand charms of mountains and rivers,

This sunset,

Is the last tenderness of the mortal world,

Not a single word,

As hard to let go of as the south,

Right?