This afternoon, I spent hours for my last rode on this old capital, just passed some memorable streets and buildings. I no longer know, whether this day belong to dry or rainy season, all I know that I wish to see all those memorable intersections and corners once more, just for once more.
How long I have stood here, all the past seems has not changed at all into present. The same scarlet sky, the similar humid thin air, and this warm breeze out of nowhere. This floating feeling, this lightened breath, and this softened ground. How long I have stood here.
I have no story, I have no sonnet, and I have no poetry. This path is just a simple void between my days and nights, between my awareness and my ignorance. And by its’ nature, it has become a quiet path.