"Dad said that the starry sky lamp is my magic enchantment.
But why is the barrier still there but the home is broken? "
When he was eight years old, Chen Yu's Milky Way shattered into pieces of glass.
A divorce tore apart her marriage and her dictionary. "Go home" became "go to your mother's place", and "daddy's smell" became the smell of unfamiliar perfume. She drew a cross on the calendar and was torn apart by four pairs of eyes in the court, turning the words "custody" into an "amputation certificate" on her body.
But children are the weeds in the ruins.
She carved her mother's fingernail prints into her own seal; she wrote the judge's questions with a broken lead pencil into her childhood will; she turned the orange lollipop that humiliated her into a line of defense that would never collapse.
Years later, the starlight lights up again.
The source of light is her own heartbeat.
She finally understood: Wholeness is not about gluing the pieces back together.
It is to live oneself as a light source, illuminating the origin and destination of every crack.
"I am not a flower growing out of ruins.
I am the light that illuminates the ruins. "
