There are some old places in the world,
Will leave later than others.
The terrazzo in the corridor still remembers the footsteps,
The bamboo chair behind the door is still facing the direction where people have been sitting.
The thermos bottle on the windowsill is dusty.
The old clothes on the clothesline swayed gently in the wind,
The house number has not been removed and the road is still there.
But the people who lived there are long gone.
Or maybe, never really left.
Twelve old spaces separated from each other,
Like twelve pieces of the past that were left in place.
Different people walked into it one after another because of a job, an appointment, an order, or a mistake.
I thought I had encountered something strange,
In fact, I just stepped into a period of life that has not yet ended.
They recognize the door in the old building, know the way in the deep alley, register in the concierge, and deliver some things in the lighted room that no one will pick up again.
Until everything slowly becomes one,
Only then did they know——
It turns out that these doors never lead to different places.
